


The Mysterious Affair at Stark's

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Agatha Christie Homage, Classic Whodunnit, Detective Story, M/M, Marvel Trumps Hate 2019, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26134321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: It was universally agreed upon that the best parties in Bannerly Park were those held at Stark Manor, and tonight would be no different... or would it?Wild weather, loud noises, an argument, a mysterious stranger, and at the end of it all...A murder.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 132
Kudos: 333
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2019





	1. The Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isle_girl808](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isle_girl808/gifts).



> This is for Marvel Trumps Hate 2019, for my wonderful winning bidder, isle_girl! Thank you so much for bidding! Isle_girl picked this from a list of wips and I was really excited to have motivation to work on this project!
> 
> This is heavily influenced by Agatha Christie, whose work I adore. I started writing this well before Knives Out came out, but if you liked KO, I feel like this might be up your alley :D I can't tag too extensively, cause I don't want to give anything away. 
> 
> THIS IS A MURDER MYSTERY SO THERE IS A MURDER
> 
> However I haven't tagged it MCD, but I don't feel that the character murdered is a) major or b) going to make anyone very sad :P
> 
> If you're concerned about anything, you can PM me on tumblr or send me a non-anon ask, and I can privately give you SOME spoilers (I won't be spoiling who the murderer is until the whole thing is posted). 
> 
> I consider this very lighthearted, as far as murders go, and it's much more of a classic whodunnit than, like, Stephen King.
> 
> This is set in an indeterminate time period in an indeterminate country. Agatha Christie was an English author who wrote from the 1920s-1970s. I've tried to emulate her style so that gives it a certain feel. Don't think about it too hard ;)
> 
> I will be posting one chapter a day until near the end, when I'll leave a break so you have a chance to solve it if you want! I'll also put a warning on the first "reveal" chapter so you can save it if you want to solve it yourself.
> 
> This is my first mystery so please be kind! I've done my best. I hope it's neither too easy, nor too hard, but mostly I hope it's fun! Thanks for reading! :D

It was universally agreed upon that the best parties in Bannerly Park were those held at Stark Manor, and tonight was no different. Though it was a quieter, intimate affair, the guests were having a wonderful time and their host, young Mr. Tony Stark, fed off their pleasure. He sat on a  _ chaise _ in the sitting room and watched his visitors enjoy themselves, a martini glass hanging loosely from one hand and a nearly spent cigarette dangling from the other. 

The sitting room wasn't as opulent or vast as some of the other spaces in his sprawling mansion, but when it was his friends only, Tony preferred the closeness of a smaller room. It was warm and cosy, stuffed near to bursting with cushy sofas and loveseats. The floor was hidden completely by lush Persian rugs, dancing with curls and whorls of reds and golds. The side wall facing the garden was almost entirely glass, four sets of huge, French doors lined up side-by-side, like soldiers, from one corner to the other. Being rather late in the evening now, the curtains were pulled nearly to on three of the four, but the fourth was left uncovered, in case anyone wished to step outside. It was a damp night, but not full-on storming, and with the fire on and the density of bodies in the small room, it was easy enough to overheat. 

Miss Potts, affectionately known as Pepper by those who loved her, was playing cards with Colonel Rhodes, Lord Barton, and Jane Foster. Pepper was Tony's assistant, or rather more so, considering how efficiently and effectively she ran his life. Tony paid her handsomely for her dedication to her position, but beyond that, they were also close friends. The only person with whom Tony shared a closer bond was likely the man to her left, Colonel Rhodes. 

Rhodey was an army man, just like his father, but he and Tony had been friends since they were small and no matter of time or distance between them had dampened that trust. And yet, lately, Tony had been given reason to wonder if his dearest, oldest friend was keeping something from him.

Unlike Rhodey, there were several members of the evening's party that Tony couldn't claim much of an acquaintance with. Perhaps the oddest of the lot was the magician, who refused to give any name but his stage name, "The Vision," though he didn't seem to mind it being shortened to Viz. So far, Tony had seen little evidence that his tricks were anything to write home about, but the ladies had demanded a show after their card game, and he had agreed. 

The wind rattled the windows and Jane Foster shivered, pulling her shawl up over her shoulders. 

"Oh, do be a dear and close the curtains, Tony," Pepper implored. "We're freezing."

Tony looked out to his right, towards the window. A smattering of rain pummeled the glass then stopped, whipped away by the wind. "The paper didn't warn us it would be such a storm," he said idly, making no move to close the curtains. He'd always felt that a completely shut up room was a bit claustrophobic.

Pepper sighed dramatically and leaned over the back of her chair to pluck her shawl from the armchair behind her and wrapped it around her shoulders. Jane smiled kindly at her.

Jane was someone Tony also barely knew, here as a guest of Thor Odinson, her fiancé. It was delightfully dramatic. Not only was Odinson a Norweigian prince, some distant European royalty line that Tony had no precise knowledge of, but his fiancée had caused quite a stir. They had only known each other a few weeks, at most, but had become engaged almost immediately. From what Thor himself had said, it mattered much less to his family that the engagement was so quick, and rather more so that she was an American. 

From what Tony had observed, they seemed very much in love, though, polite and kind and gentle to each other at all times. Not that Tony had much experience to go on. Those he fell in love with never seemed to have much regard for him so he'd mostly given up on the prospect, entirely. It didn't lessen the delight, however, of watching those around him with hearts in their eyes.

Thor Odinson himself was a tall, broad chested, blond man. The epitome of Norse joviality, he was warm and considerate towards everyone, perhaps a bit too…  _ loud,  _ though Tony couldn't argue that his usual company was by any means demure. Still… Odinson had a way of being forthright and outspoken that occasionally rankled. They'd met in school, many, many years ago, but Tony couldn't say the man had made much of an impression on him back then. Or at least, he seemed to have changed quite a bit from the man Tony had vague memories of. Tony also suspected he was one of those men that used a flamboyant cover to hide less welcoming waters deep beneath. As it was, Odinson and the future Mrs. Odinson were not staying long. Thor, apparently, had business with Tony's uncle, and had insisted he be invited to the party so they could meet.

An uncle, Tony noted with dissatisfaction, who had shown neither hide nor hair of himself in over two hours. 

**

Lord Clinton Barton looked up from the card table long enough to note Mr. Stark leaving the room with an annoyed expression on his face. Miss Potts, across from him, scowled at the doorway. "Is everything alright, Miss Potts?" he asked.

Her face cleared. "Oh yes. I'm sure Tony's just gone to fetch Obie. He gets so caught up in his work and despite pushing for more parties, he never shows!" She exchanged one card for another, her brow furrowing again with some deep thought. "Although, lately…"

Clint didn't push, though he was terribly curious to know more about the genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist that owned Stark Mansion and Stark Industries. So young when his parents died… But under the watchful eye of his Uncle, Obediah, he seemed to be handling his sudden ascension with as much grace as could be expected in the situation. He certainly knew how to throw a party. 

Clint lifted his glass to his lips and sipped the most expensive scotch he'd ever tasted with pleasure. Yes, Stark certainly knew how to throw a party. 

He was selecting a card when low voices echoed down the hall and the gathered group paused, tension palpable. 

Tony's voice rang clear. "But that's not how  _ I  _ intend to do it, Obie!"

Pepper and Colonel Rhodes shared a look that wasn't lost on Clint, and he wondered if this was a common argument for the two men. He had to agree, however, that it was rather unseemly to have it so loudly, and with the doors open. 

"Excuse me," Viz said rather awkwardly, slipping out of the room. He seemed the sort to be uncomfortable with any outward displays of emotion.

"So," Jane said firmly, speaking more loudly than Clint had ever heard from her before, "who's ante is it?"

"That would be mine." Rhodes hummed at his cards then tossed a few chips in the middle.

But Tony's voice rose again. "Yes, well, you'll never see it my way if you continue to keep your eyes shut! It makes no sense! It's not fair!" There was a pause, and Clint could tell that Pepper and Jane were both searching for some topic of discussion to cover the noise, but before they could, Tony bit out a curse that made even Clint jump and after a few more moments of dead silence, a teeth-rattling bang echoed out through the night. 

"Oh, my goodness!" Pepper startled up and her hand went to her chest. 

"Are you alright?" Rhodes asked, his hand jerking for her elbow to hold her steady.

Clint's own heart pounded in his chest, just as startled. "What on earth was that?" He moved towards the hallway, but Tony's head appeared around the doorframe. 

"What was that?" Tony asked.

"We were coming to find you to ask the same thing!" Rhodes declared. 

"Perhaps a door banged shut in the wind?" Jane offered.

Thor no longer seemed to be in the room so Clint asked her if she was alright and Jane nodded. 

Tony turned out towards the hallway again. "It must have been a door… or perhaps something blew over in the garden…" He crossed the room to the uncovered French door and peered outside. Clint stepped up beside him, watching as he unlatched the door and threw it open. "Oh. The weather has changed rather suddenly." He stepped outside, and Clint followed him to the threshold.

The air was crisp but not cold, the wind having died down to a soft breeze. The ground was wet and springy, but the rain had stopped. The garden smelled of rain and roses, sweet and fresh, and Clint breathed in deeply. "I guess the storm blew over us."

"Then what was that blasted noise?" Tony turned back to the garden, and Clint watched as a different storm blew across his face, twisting his half-shadowed expression into something ghoulish.

Three sharp knocks on the front door drew them both back inside. 

"Perhaps that's our answer?" Pepper offered, and the entire party made their way to the front door. 

The butler, Mr. Jarvis, was already there, and he pulled open the door to reveal dark eyes behind a dark mane of long hair and a well-worn, black leather jacket. The man pulled off a set of gloves and pushed his hair back out of his face. "So sorry to bother you," he said awkwardly. "But my bike broke down just at the end of your lane and I was hoping to trouble you for the use of your phone and perhaps a - um. He shook his head and water drops splattered across the porch. "A towel?"

Jarvis gestured him in. "Of course, sir, and you are?" He reached to take the man's jacket but Tony stepped forward and offered him his hand.

"You're very welcome. Always happy to offer a warm roof to a troubled traveller. Tony Stark."

The man took his hand and shook it, relief softening his gloomy expression significantly. "James Barnes."

**

James Barnes' grip was firm in Tony's, confident, perhaps too much so. His eyes, however, betrayed an unease that Tony couldn't put a reason to. Though, he supposed, being forced to seek shelter with perfect strangers was anxiety-inducing of its own accord. "You're very welcome, Mr. Barnes."

Jarvis took the traveller's jacket and hung it up, surreptitiously shaking the water out. "I'm afraid the local mechanic won't be available until morning. Do you have someone you can call?"

Barnes' features twisted darkly. "I - no. No, I'm afraid I don't."

"Well, you're safe here for now, Mr. Barnes," Tony said.

"I shall have Laura fetch some towels, sir." Jarvis picked up a tray from the corner table that had Obie's nightcap on it.

"Thank you, Jarvis." Tony clapped his butler on the shoulder then gestured Barnes towards the stairs. "You can use my bathroom to freshen up. You really should take a bath or you'll catch your death of cold. We can get you something to wear." Barnes nodded gratefully and set off up the stairs.

"Anything else, Mr. Stane?" came Jarvis' gentle voice around the corner. There was a dismissive grunt from Obie, then Jarvis reappeared, his tray now empty, and he walked down the hall, back towards the servants' quarters.

"Well, that answers that," Pepper said. "A bike misfire! What a frightening noise. It sounded so much closer than the end of the lane."

"Come, my dear," Tony heard Rhodey say as he mounted the stairs, "let's take a turn through the garden to calm our nerves."

"Yes, I think so."

Tony's attention cut to the man in front of him as he walked up the stairs. He had rough edges, but underneath the overly long hair, the leathers, and the stubble was a strong jaw and intelligent eyes. "Not from around here, are you?" Tony asked companionably.

"No," Barnes said shortly. "Traveling through."

Tony led the way to his private bathroom and gestured Barnes in. Barnes had already rolled up his sleeves, and Tony saw an ink pattern on the inside of one wrist. "Army?" he asked.

"Yes. Honorable discharge." He turned his arm further and Tony saw the edge of a wicked burn marring the inside of his elbow. Released for injury, then.

Tony nodded. "Thank you for serving your country, Mr. Barnes."

Barnes nodded sharply so Tony stepped out, giving him some privacy. As he moved into the hallway, Laura, the housemaid, appeared, arms full of towels and linens. "Will he be staying the night, then?

"I'm not sure," Tony replied, dropping his voice low, "but it doesn't seem like he has anywhere else to go."

"I'll make up the blue room, just in case, if that's alright with you, sir," she said.

"Of course, Laura. Whatever you think is best."

She half-curtsied, too burdened with fabrics to do much more than nod and bend one knee, then took off at a stiff trot for the blue bedroom. Tony left the guest to the hands of the servants and turned to go back down the stairs. As he was rounding the upper banister, a soft thump from down the hall drew his attention. Odd. He thought everyone was downstairs.

"Hello?" he called out, but there was no answer. Tony shrugged and set off down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, Tony could hear his friends in the sitting room, but he paused, curious. Barnes' jacket had been hung up in the front hall. Tony snuck past the open door to the sitting room and opened the closet. Barnes' leathers were near the front and Tony reached out, rifling through the pockets. The only thing he found was a strip of paper with "Bannerly Park" written on it and nothing more. How odd, he thought.

Soft footsteps drew Tony out of the closet. Tony tucked himself away under the stairs and closed his eyes. He could hear footsteps continuing down the hall but he ignored them. No would come to the closet except a servant and they all worked for him. 

He and Obie just couldn't see eye to eye on the direction the company was taking and it was starting to exhaust him. Perhaps he should go in after Obie's nightcap and try to talk to him? But that would only serve to worsen an already disappointing night, and Tony wasn't sure he could face it at the moment. Not when he was too drunk for restraint and too sober for compromise. 

Tony had resolved to find another drink and another cigarette and spend the rest of his evening with his friends, when another bang startled him up and away from the wall. "For heaven's sake!" The house sounded like it was falling down tonight, and with the wind so softened, he couldn't imagine what had caused it. 

He turned down the hallway and back into the sitting room, entering by the north door just as Jarvis entered by the south. His butler looked up in apparent surprise at seeing him there, freezing and blinking at him for a moment. Tony tilted his head in curiosity, but Jarvis merely shook his head, attention back on his coffee tray, which he offered to The Vision.

"Did you hear that?" Jane asked. "Sounded like another bike misfiring."

"Well, they'd better go up the other road to Mr. Hammer's place," Tony said with a laugh. "We're full up!"

Tony took a cup from the tray Jarvis offered and looked up to find Pepper and Rhodey slipping back in through the north door. "Oh, hello. How was your walk?"

They shared an unusual glance and Pepper rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms. "Lovely. Weather has really turned, hasn't it?"

"Sure has."

Lord Barton's voice came from behind him and Tony turned back to see him coming in through the south door. "Our surprise guest all settled?" he asked.

"He's freshening up."

"He is, thank you." Barnes was standing in the north doorway, his hair brushed back from his face, his damp shirt exchanged for one of Tony's. "I appreciate your hospitality immensely. If I could just borrow your phone, I can arrange alternate transportation, or perhaps find a mechanic for my bike."

"It's awfully late," Rhodey offered. "Surely, Tony won't mind if you spend the night."

"Of course not. You can't go back out this late, Mr. Barnes."

The man flinched a little, as if the thought pained him, but he nodded. "Thank you. I won't impose on your generosity much longer. First thing in the morning, I'll arrange something."

Tony waved away his promise. It hardly mattered. He had the space. 

Jane yawned, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Oh, goodness. I suppose it's well past time for bed." Her fiancé hooked an arm around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze.

Tony had to admit, he was tired himself. "I suppose it is."

Pepper frowned and crossed her arms. "Simply unacceptable to not even bid his guests goodnight. Let me fetch Obie away from his work to at least see us all off to bed, since I know he'll still be in that study first thing tomorrow when we leave." She set off down the hall and Rhodey stepped up to the drinks cart by Tony's elbow to pour himself a scotch. Tony noted with interest that his hand shook a little as he lifted the bottle and he wondered if it hadn't been colder out than it seemed.

Jarvis appeared at Tony's other elbow. "Sir, if I may -"

_ "AHHH!"  _ Pepper's scream ripped through the room and everyone hauled to their feet and bolted through the door and down the hall. She was standing in the doorway to Obie's study, both hands pressed over her mouth and eyes wide with fear. 

The entire party skidded down the hall and wrapped around her, Rhodey gripping her shoulders on one side and Tony taking her wrist in his hold on the other. They all stared in the room.

Obediah Stane sat in his enormous, leather chair behind his desk which faced the door. And in his chest was a perfect round hole, a ring of dark blood around it.

He was dead. Shot. 

Murdered.


	2. The Investigation Begins

Steve “The Captain” Rogers adjusted his tie. He shot a look to his right where Inspector Romanoff stood straight-backed beside him, and she cocked an eyebrow in return. The door was opened by a haggard looking elderly man in a carefully pressed suit: the butler.

“Good evening, sir, ma’am. Thank you so much for coming,” he said, his perfectly controlled politeness betrayed by a tremor in his hand when he gestured them in.

“Thank you.” Steve stepped inside. “I’m Detective Rogers, this is Inspector Romanoff. I understand there’s been a murder?”

“Yes, indeed. I’m afraid there has. I’m Mr. Jarvis, the butler. Mr. Stark has asked that everyone wait in the parlour. The -” Jarvis coughed, a brief spasm of emotion crossing his stoic face. “The body is in the study.”

Natasha flipped open her notepad. “And who is the deceased?”

“Obadiah Stane,” Mr. Jarvis replied, his voice hitching again. “He was the business partner of the late Mr. Howard Stark - Mr. Tony Stark’s father. He is - was heavily involved in the running of the family business, Stark Industries, for which he shared controlling interest with the current Mr. Stark.”

“Alright.” Steve shuffled out of his jacket, and Mr. Jarvis dutifully took it and hung it up. The butler reached for Natasha’s but she shook her head and he took his hands back. “Everyone’s in the parlour? Lead on then, I’d like to have a word with the household before we examine the scene.” 

Mr. Stark’s house party was gathered in the parlour, looking various shades of shocked and dishevelled. Mr. Stark, putting on a front of smiles and bravado though clearly deeply shaken, introduced his guests one at a time. Natasha took down their information in her notebook. There was one name, one face, that gave Steve pause, but he pushed on. It was an eccentric collection for a house party, though Mr. Stark didn’t seem to think it was at all odd. Mr. Stark, it seemed, was an eccentric person.

With the guests contained, and everyone agreeing not to leave, Steve and Natasha moved to the study to examine the body. 

The study was a richly furnished room, though not overly large, with an enormous oak desk filling most of the centre space. Stane's chair was on the other side of the desk, facing the door. Behind him were wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes. Next to the door was a safe, closed and locked, and a dumbwaiter that opened into the room or into the hall. On the other wall was a huge glass case filled with expensive trinkets, cigar cases, and bottles of liquor.

"What an extremely odd dumbwaiter," Steve said.

Natasha shrugged. "From everything I've heard, Howard Stark was an extremely odd man, and he built the house."

Stane's body was slumped back in the chair, eyes wide open, filled with surprise, one hand still cupped around his drink which was about three-quarters full. The shot had gone right through his heart, leaving a perfect circle, blood staining his waistcoat around it. Steve didn't move the body, but it looked like the bullet had been stopped either inside Stane or by the heavy, leather chair he sat in. 

Steve and Natasha each took a turn around the room, examining everything they could without disturbing the body. There wasn't much to be found, however. The carpet was clean of dirt, footprints, or fibres. The room was neat and tidy - besides the dead body - and when Natasha forced the safe open, it was all but empty, save for a few business papers. Steve opened the dumbwaiter, but it was empty. He closed it again. 

"Let's speak to the staff first," he suggested, "while they're still fresh."

Natasha nodded and she stepped into the hall and requested the study key from Jarvis. She used it to lock the door, and Steve asked that the dumbwaiter's strange hallway port also be locked shut. He put the keys to both in his pocket then followed Jarvis down the back stairs to the kitchen. 

They began their interviews with the kitchen staff - the housekeeper-cum-cook, and her two kitchen maids. Stark kept a small staff, opting to bring in outside help when hosting large parties. For tonight, however, the kitchen staff had ordered food in that morning and all outside help had left long before the murder. All three servants declared they hadn't been above stairs all night, except for one maid who helped serve at dinner, and that it was loud enough that they hadn't heard anything. The strong consensus was that Jarvis had taken Stane up his night cap tray around eight-fifteen. He'd reappeared a few minutes later and gone to his room. Less than fifteen minutes later, they'd heard the shot and all three of them had yelped. Mr. Jarvis had reappeared and asked them if the noise was caused by them.

"He thought it was a broken dish, sir," the kitchen maid, Darcy, said, "or a dropped pot. But, lord! It was so loud. When we said it weren't us, he ran upstairs to make sure everyone was okay. It was maybe twenty minutes later when he came back down and said Mr. Stane had been shot and we weren't to leave or go upstairs and clear from drinks. So we've been waiting here."

Steve nodded and noted it all down carefully in his notebook, Natasha doing the same at his side. "Do you have any idea who might have shot him?"

The kitchen staff all shared a look then both maids looked at the cook, apparently leaving it to her to cast any aspersions on their behalves. "No idea, I'm sure," the cook said. "Could have been anyone, I suppose. Mr. Stane was… well. Could have been anyone. Maybe someone came in from outside and done him in?"

"Perhaps." Steve snapped his notebook shut. "Thank you. You can go to bed, but please don't clean anything upstairs for the time being. We'll let you know when you're allowed to clean up and leave the house."

They scurried off, and Steve turned to Natasha. "Eight-thirty."

"Kitchens are always good with times. I'm inclined to trust their accuracy."

"Let's see what the rest of the staff says." Steve stuck his head out of the small tea-room they'd commandeered for interviews. "Mr. Jarvis, can you send in the housemaid please?"

A moment later, Laura Roche, the housemaid, stepped through the door. She was young and pretty, soft brown hair tumbling out from under her cap. She twisted a dusting cloth between her hands, brow furrowed in dainty concern. "Sir, ma'am." She curtsied. "I'm sure I don't know anything."

"Don't worry, young lady," Steve said gently. "We're speaking to everyone to establish a timeline. You're not in any trouble if you haven't done anything wrong."

She nodded without looking pacified at all.

"Please tell us everything you remember about the evening."

"Okay…" She shuffled where she stood. "We had lamb for dinner," she started shakily. "It was apparently quite good. Everyone was together in the dining room, except Mr. Stane stepped out between the first course and the second to take a phone call in his study. He had the rest of his meal brought to him there and as far as I know, didn't reappear to see his guests for the rest of the night." She sounded rather reproachful at that.

"Was that common for him?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Very common. Mr. Stane was - " She coughed lightly. "He was a q-q-quiet sort of man. Or rather, he preferred quiet company to - to -"

"To large parties?" Steve offered.

Laura looked relieved. "Yes, sir. I do believe he enjoyed having the parties at the house, they're quite good, you know, for a businessman's reputation, but he prefered that Mr. Stark play host. And he's so very good at it, of course, sir."

"Alright, I understand perfectly. Do go on."

"Well…" She paused to think. "After dinner, they ordered coffee and sat to play cards, though I think only Miss Potts, Colonel Rhodes, Miss Foster and one of the other gentlemen played. The other two gentlemen were talking, and Mr. Stark sat on the  _ chaise  _ and joked with his friends while he smoked. At least… that's where I think they were. It's possible the gentlemen swapped seats at the card table, I wouldn't have noticed. I only looked in once or twice."

"They're all strangers to you, then? Lord Barton, Thor Odinson, and - uh -" Steve stared at the list Jarvis had given him, carefully penned out. "The Vision?"

"Yes, sir. Hadn't met any of them before the night before last, sir. When they arrived."

"Alright. So they were drinking, playing cards, and talking."

"Yes, sir. All seemed well. Mr. Jarvis was watching and Darcy was down the kitchen if they pulled the bell. So I went upstairs to gather some laundry. I was just heading back down again when I ran into Mr. Stark in the hallway, looking rather upset. He'd just come from Mr. Stane's study. I asked him if he might like a drink - he had that look about him, you know, sir, that he needed something stiff to take the edge off."

"Yes, of course,"

"But he shook his head." She sighed. "Poor Mr. Stark and Mr. Stane. They're always butting heads, sir. So I spoke to him for a moment. I've known him for a long time and we're all very fond of him. He's a wonderful master and he pays us very handsomely. Then we heard the motorbike backfiring. Goodness! It was so startling."

"A bike backfired?"

"Yes, sir, down the lane. Mr. Stark went to the sitting room to ask if anyone knew what it was and then Mr. Jarvis came down the hall and looked out the window. We were all surprised. But the wind had been so wild. Well I looked out too and I could see a figure at the end of the drive. The figure - a man, I saw, eventually - came up and knocked on the door."

"Someone you knew?"

"No, sir. A stranger. Well, he introduced himself as James Barnes and said his bike had broken down at the end of the drive and did we have a phone. The weather had seemingly calmed down by then, but he was still soaking wet. Mr. Jarvis sent me upstairs with Mr. Stark and Mr. Barnes to prepare a room for him and draw him a bath so he wouldn't catch a chill."

"Alright. What did you do then?"

"I drew the bath and called him in. Showed him all the towels and gave him some soap for his hair and left him to wash up. While he was in the bath, I made the bed in the Blue Room in case he was going to stay the night."

"What did you do with the laundry?" Natasha asked.

"Pardon me, ma'am? You mean from making the bed? Or Mr. Barnes' clothes?"

"From earlier. You said you were collecting laundry, but you were stopped when you came downstairs by Mr. Stark coming out of Mr. Stane's study."

"Oh. I'd already sent that down in the dumbwaiter."

"It runs by the study to the laundry room?"

"Oh, no, sir. There are actually three in the house. Mr. Stark the elder, Mr. Howard Stark, he built the house and he loved contraptions and things - you should see how the garage doors open! But no, there's one chute to the laundry room from upstairs in the hall closet, one that runs from the valet rooms downstairs up past the study and to the master suite upstairs - that was so Mr. Howard Stark could have his nightcap straight from his valet without the kitchen staff knowing." She tutted. "Then a third that goes from the kitchen to the dining room for serving meals."

"Okay. So what happened next?"

"Well…" She paused again. "I guess next I heard the shot. It was frightfully loud. Sounded like it was right next to me. But, I guess like everyone else, I didn't realize it was a gunshot. I thought it was another engine noise - perhaps the mechanic had come by and tried to fix Mr. Barnes' bike. Or Mr. Stark had asked someone to put it in the garage for the night and it had gone off again. Anyway, I had just finished tidying up the Blue Room when I heard Miss Potts scream." Laura looked pained for a moment. "I didn't like seeing him that way. No, sir." She sighed. "But I'm afraid I was upstairs the whole time. I didn't see anything. Maybe if I'd run right down when I heard the shot, I might - I might -"

"Don't trouble yourself, dear," Steve said gently. "We can't go on wishing we were somewhere we weren't. We'll find out what happened. All we need from you is the truth."

"That's the honest truth, sir. I promise."

"Okay. Thank you very much. You may go. And ask Mr. Jarvis if he'll come in now, please."

"Yes, sir." She bobbed again and bolted out of the room.

A moment later, Mr. Jarvis appeared, hovering politely by the door.

"Thank you for speaking with us, Mr. Jarvis." Steve gestured him into a chair. "All we need at this time is your account of the events of the evening."

"Of course." He cleared his throat and flattened his palms on his thighs. "Dinner was largely uneventful. Near the end of the first course, I received a call which I answered on the hall telephone. It was for Mr. Stane. I brought him a note and he opted to take the call in his study. When I checked on him about ten minutes later, he indicated that he preferred to have the rest of his meal brought to him there. I let the kitchen staff know and they had Darcy bring each dish to him directly after that." Mr. Jarvis paused, as if collecting his memories. "After dinner, Miss Potts, Colonel Rhodes, Lord Barton, and Miss Foster elected to play cards, poker, I believe. I'm of the opinion that one doesn't gamble in the company of young ladies, but they asked me to bring cards and chips in and pour drinks."

"And you do as you're asked."

"Yes, sir. I have been serving the Starks for over thirty years. I have known Mr. Stark since he was in a cradle. It is my job to do whatever they need of me."

"Mr. Stark doesn't have a personal valet, correct?"

"No, sir. I fill both roles, when needed. But Mr. Stark is fairly… self-sufficient."

"More and more gentlemen are getting by with smaller staff these days," Steve offered.

"Indeed."

"But your job has never been at risk?"

Jarvis bristled every so slightly. "Certainly not. As I said, I've been serving the Starks for over thirty years. This is my home. Mr. Stark is my family."

"And Mr. Stane?"

"Yes, quite. He was as a brother to my late master, Mr. Howard Stark, and an uncle to Mr. Tony Stark. He is - was - family too."

"I'm very sorry for your loss."

Mr. Jarvis seemed thrown for the first time. He blinked rapidly. "Thank you, sir."

"So. We have the four playing cards - where was everyone else?"

"Mr. Odinson and Mr… Vision were having a discussion at the other end of the room about travelling, I believe. I brought them coffee. Mr. Stark was on the  _ chaise  _ by the French doors, smoking."

"What happened next?"

"There was - or wait, no. First, Miss Potts said something about it being cold. Then Mr. Stark got up and left."

"Was it cold?"

"No more than usual, sir, but I understand the ladies feel these things more strongly. One of the sets of curtains hadn't been drawn so anyone who wished could step outside. Though, the weather didn't allow for much of that."

"What was the weather like?"

"Blustery. Wet."

"Did anyone go outside?"

Jarvis thought for a moment. "Not before dinner. Perhaps after. Miss Potts was quite upset by the bike backfiring and I believe the Colonel suggested she step outside."

"In the rain and wind?"

"Well, by then, the weather was much improved."

"Ah." Steve made a note in his book. Natasha remained silent beside him, her pen scratching across the page. "And then?"

"Right. So Miss Potts was cold and then Mr. Stark left the room. At that point, I stepped out to restock some of the bar. I remember we were low on olives, which is a particular favourite of Miss Potts."

"Where were you doing that?"

"In the kitchen." Jarvis nodded to himself, as if conferring with his memory and finding it confirmed. "But I went back up shortly after, to see if anyone needed a drink."

"Did you hear Mr. Stark arguing with Mr. Stane?"

Jarvis shook his head. "No, sir. He was in the hall with Laura when I came up the stairs."

"Did you hear the backfire?"

"Yes, sir. I was just coming up the stairs when I heard the bang. I went to the front window to see what it was and I saw a young man coming up the drive."

"Did you know him?"

"No, sir."

"What happened next?"

"Mr. Barnes, as we learned he is called, knocked on the door and I let him in. He explained his predicament and Mr. Stark agreed to put him up. I sent Laura upstairs to draw a bath and make up a room for him. At that point, I realized it was nearly eight o'clock and I always bring Mr. Stane his last drink at eight. I went downstairs with the coffee pot, then I went up and brought him his drink."

"What was he like at that point?"

Jarvis looked thoughtful for a moment. "He seemed deeply engaged with work, sir. I asked him if he needed anything else, but he just sipped his drink and waved me off with barely a word."

"Was that usual for him?" Steve asked.

"Yes, I would say so, sir. He was not always talkative in the evenings, especially when he was pressed with work. And it seemed that he was."

"Was he still on the phone?"

"No, sir."

"Who called him earlier?"

"I'm not sure, sir. I wasn't given a name." Jarvis bristled a little at that, as if he thought it rather distasteful. "But it seemed to me he was expecting the call."

"Do you think the call agitated him in any way?"

"No, I wouldn't say so. It seemed like his... usual business."

"Alright." Steve gestured him on.

"I left his drink and closed the door. I locked it behind me, as I usually do in the evening. Mr. Stane keeps a key inside as well, but it prevents anyone from walking in on him while he's working. He prefers a knock after dinner as he makes a lot of late night, international phone calls. I went right downstairs, said a word or two to the kitchen staff, then went to my rooms."

"Were your duties done for the evening?"

"Oh, no, sir. But I wanted to check my books and make sure we were prepared to house an additional guest for a day or two, as I couldn't see there being any chance Mr. Barnes wouldn't stay. I saw the gardener was coming the next day with a boy who works on Mr. Stark's cars so I made a note to have them bring the bike up and see if it couldn't be fixed. I was going to speak to the cook about extra food for breakfast the next morning when I heard the gunshot."

"When was that?"

"Must have been no later than half past eight. Perhaps a little earlier."

"And did you know, at the time, that it was a gunshot?"

"No, sir. I thought it might be another backfire, but that seemed odd as the bike in question was abandoned at the end of the drive. It occurred to me that someone might have tried to move it. Then the bell rang so I got up to the sitting room as soon as I could with a coffee tray."

"Who was in the room?"

"Lord Barton stepped in just after me. Miss Foster and Mr. Vision were there already. I served them coffee. Mr. Stark was there. Prince Odinson, Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes came in shortly after I arrived there."

"Who had rung the bell?"

"I'm not actually sure, sir. Both Prince Odinson and Miss Foster took a cup and no one seemed to need anything else."

"When you say Mr. Stark was there - was he in the room already when you stepped in, or did he arrive after you?"

Jarvis hesitated a moment. "I'm not sure, sir. I believe he was there already. But close to the door as if he'd just come in. But I didn't take particular notice. My apologies."

"No, that's very well, Mr. Jarvis. Thank you for your time."

Jarvis stood, then hesitated. "Shall I fetch someone for you, sir?"

"No, I think not." Steve shot a look to Natasha. "Before we speak to the guests, we'd very much like to have a look in their rooms."


	3. The Search

Natasha turned to Steve as Jarvis clicked the door closed behind him. "Any thoughts?" she asked.

Steve hummed, tapping his pen on his notebook. "It's always so helpful to start with the staff. They see everything. And if you want a passionless account, always ask the butler. But no, I don't think I'll form any thoughts until we've spoken to the guests."

"But first…"

"Yes, indeed." Steve led the way out of the tea room and to the main foyer. He spun slowly in place. The stairs curved up, starting by the front door and ending over his head. Behind them was a large closet for coats. Straight down the hall from the door was Stane's study, and off to the right was a hall that led to the sitting room. Steve went to the front door and looked out the window first, down the drive. He could almost make out the road, but he couldn't see the bike. "Remind me to ask where the bike is."

Natasha made a note in her booklet.

Up the stairs, Steve kept his eyes cast downwards, but there wasn't much to see beyond the normal scuffs and scratches of regular wear and tear. As they turned the top of the banister, a short inhale had Steve looking up. Colonel Rhodes was standing with his hand on one of the bedroom door knobs, his mouth open in surprise.

"Colonel," Steve said. "We asked everyone to wait in the parlour."

"Yes, of course. My apologies, Detective. I realized I'd left my cigarette case upstairs and I just came up to grab it. Awfully tense, down there, you know. Just needed a smoke to relax."

"Of course, of course. I understand. However, we need to leave everything undisturbed, so I'm sure if you asked around, someone else would have a cigarette for you. I understand Mr. Stark is a smoker?"

"Right. Yes. I suppose it's alright to change my brand under the circumstances."

Steve hummed in agreement, and Rhodes stepped past them and trotted down the stairs. Natasha raised her eyebrows at Steve and they set off again. They walked the length of the hall and peeked into bedrooms until they found one that was clearly occupied. 

Natasha flipped back through her notes. "This one must be Lord Barton's."

"Lord Barton… hmm. Have you heard of him?"

"No, never. And none of the staff seem to know much about him at all."

Steve opened his closet and flipped through the clothes. They were a bit shabby, and there wasn't as much as he'd expect to find, but there was nothing unusual. Natasha disappeared into his bathroom and there was clinking and rattling but she came out empty handed. 

"He didn't bring a man with him? He travelled on his own?"

"None of the guests seem to have brought any staff. I suppose it's rather informal here. Though, judging by his clothes, perhaps he can't afford it."

"I suppose "Lord" probably comes with more debt than finery these days." Steve shut the bathroom door. He considered, as he looked around, that perhaps the lack of anything said almost as much as something found. "Hmm."

"On to the next one." Natasha shut Barton's door behind her as they stepped towards Miss Potts' room. 

Steve sniffed the air as he stepped in. "She had a fire set."

"Tonight?"

"Seems odd when they were all gathered below. And if so, why is it out now? No, I imagine it must have been much earlier in the day." He crouched by the hearth. It hadn't been cool that day until the sun set and the wind picked up. He poked through the ashes and turned up a torn, burnt scrap of paper.

_ Raza,  _ it said,  _ Gulmira. _

"What does that mean?" Natasha asked.

Steve turned the paper. It was part of a notepaper pulled off a pad and there was a significant piece missing. "It must be a name."

"Whose?"

"I have no idea." Steve opened his notebook and folded the burnt scrap into the back of it. "We'll have to phone it in to the office and have them look into it."

The rest of Potts' things revealed nothing of interest. In Rhodes' rooms, they found a gun but it was unfired, with no bullets, and the calibre was too high to have made the hole in Stane's chest. Even still, Natasha confiscated it, just in case. 

Steve took another turn around his room, scanning up and down. "You know what we didn't find?"

Natasha hummed for a moment then raised a finger. "A cigarette case."

"Spot on. If he wasn't upstairs for that, why was he upstairs?"

"Perhaps he already had it when we found him?"

"Surely then he would have shown us, to explain himself. And he commented about changing his brand for the night by smoking one of Stark's." Steve made a note. "It may be nothing."

"Well, a certain Detective once told me that when it comes to a murder inquiry, nothing is nothing."

Steve smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Nice to know you listen to me once in a while, Romanoff."

"Always, Cap."

Thor Odinson's room unearthed some unusual finds, but nothing that either detective could outright call ominous. There was a large bottle of peroxide in the back of the closet, amongst a mixture of clothing the likes of which Steve had never seen before. Some of it was quite shabby and some was rather opulent. There were all manner of sizes and the closet was full to bursting. "He must have arrived with a shocking number of cases," Steve mused.

Natasha picked up the bottle of peroxide. "Perhaps he's been unwell? Lost weight? Hence the change in clothing size. The peroxide could be for some rather horrifying health treatment or even to clean up vomit or blood?"

Steve flipped open his notebook. "Or to clean off blood spatter from a gunshot wound," he mused.

Natasha opened Thor's toiletry bag. Inside was a small makeup case with a few pots of skin concealer and a few other things Steve couldn't claim any knowledge of. Natasha waved it at him. "Unwell. Men use makeup to cover sallow skin and dark circles. Or even bruises. I wonder if his wife-to-be knows."

"Perhaps that's why the engagement has been such a whirlwind."

"No inheritance if they're not married before he dies?"

"Such a cynic, Natasha. I meant so their love could be recognized before he dies, but yes, I suppose that could be true, too."

"It's always about money, sir."

"Hmm. Doesn't give either of them any reason to kill Stane, though."

"The Prince was here on business. Perhaps it didn't go well?"

Steve huffed. "Awfully violent response to a business relationship falling through, but then again, I suppose we don't know much about the Norweigian royal family's financial standing. Perhaps they are in very dire straits indeed." Steve opened the drawers of the dresser and rummaged through. When he pulled on the bottom drawer, it slid right out, past the stops, and fell to the carpet with a thump. "Oof. Hello, what's this?"

Under the drawer was a folded sheaf of papers. Steve pulled them out and unfolded them. 

"What is it?" Natasha asked.

"Letters. A lot of them. Hmm." Steve flipped through them one by one."Looks like Obediah Stane's own hands weren't as clean as some might have thought. He's been double dealing his company's weapons, supplying the enemy as well as his own contracts. Reports of our soldiers being brought down by the same weapons they're being handed by their country. It seems Odinson had figured this out."

"Blackmail?"

"It looks like it. Either that or he was collecting more evidence? Hoping to expose him? But I'm going to have to go with blackmail for now. Though - the letters are only signed 'L.L.' and nothing more." Steve folded the letters into the back of his notebook to read in more detail later.

Next up was Jane Foster's room. To both of their surprise, she also had a gun, though again, it wasn't the one used to kill Stane. Her drawers and closets were sparse and uninteresting, her clothes all crisp and clean and folded carefully. Perhaps the only unusual find, besides the gun, was her diary, the oldest entry being a dentist appointment only six weeks ago. "I've never seen a woman with so little noted down. A few appointments, some phone numbers without names attached. She hasn't even made note of the day she was engaged."

"Perhaps she lost her diary and this is a new one? Recently purchased. Or… maybe it wasn't lost, but destroyed on purpose?"

"One of these days," Steve said with a smile, "we'll find a diary with an entry for the day before: 'commit murder, 4pm' and this will be much more efficient."

Natasha laughed. "Someday."

The Vision, unsurprisingly, had a lot of show equipment: decks of cards, metal rings, magic wands and the like. It was all collected haphazardly in a large, shabby trunk with Ultron Orphanage printed on the side. It took a while to shuffle through everything but the only thing they turned up that raised any eyebrows was a notebook that wasn't full of ideas for tricks but rather packed with names and addresses that had been crossed out.

"Hit list?" Steve offered with a slight smirk. He flipped to the last page and his smile fell to a frown. 

_ Edward - Stark Mansion _

It wasn't crossed out, the full address penned carefully below. "What was Mr. Stark's full name?" Steve asked, and Natasha opened her book to the beginning. 

"Anthony Edward Stark."

"And Stane?"

"No middle name."

"Hmm."

"Goodness. Maybe it really is a hit list?"

"Or a homes-to-hit list?"

"You think he's using magic as a cover for stealing?"

Steve shrugged. "Maybe? Can't tell you how many so-called mediums we've caught playing that game. Perhaps he gets hired for house parties and relieves the ladies of their bracelets and the gentlemen of their cufflinks. Worth keeping an eye on."

They searched carefully for any hordes of stolen items but the room offered them nothing else. 

The master suite was rather chaotic, work papers mixed with robes mixed with clocks that had been dismantled. Steve couldn't help but smile at the depth of personality in the room, Tony's life practically an open book spread before them. But the mess also made it slow going to sift through. They examined each of the work documents carefully but all they could find was above board.

"I find it hard to believe Mr. Stark knew Stane was double dealing," Natasha said, and Steve sighed with relief. He'd been thinking the same but afraid to voice it.

"It seems that way. Unless he just found out and he killed him for that reason."

"The housemaid said he and Stane fought. We'll have to ask him about what."

Barnes' room was so empty, Steve wondered if he'd marked down the wrong door.

Natasha rang the bell and a moment later, Laura appeared by the door. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Where is Barnes' luggage?"

"Oh, it hasn't been brought up, ma'am. I think they moved his bike to the garage but when I asked him, he said his bike case was the only luggage he had and it's not been brought inside."

"Okay, thank you."

"Oh, Laura," Steve said. "Before you go. Did Miss Potts have a fire set recently?"

"Oh, yes, sir. She was struck a bit ill after finding Mr. Stane as she did. So she asked for a fire and had a lie down while they called out for - well - you."

"Right. You may go."

Laura bobbed and hustled out again.

Steve stretched tall, popping and cracking his spine. "I'm beginning to get a shape of the night, of these people, but as usual we have more questions than answers now. I think we should search the study once more. The murder weapon has yet to appear."

Natasha agreed so they made their way back down to the study and closed the door behind them. Steve moved slowly and methodically around the room. He peered at Stane's waistcoat. The bullet had gone in rather cleanly and the fibres of the clothing hadn't been burned. The shooter was likely standing on the other side of the desk. Close enough to be accurate but far enough not to burn the waistcoat. 

Stane was also wearing a robe, untied, over the rest of his suit, sans jacket. The jacket lay over the back of his chair. On the desk was a telephone, a pen, and a stack of contracts. Natasha flicked through the contracts while Steve explored the rest of the room. He ran his eye along the books, inspected the knick-knacks, sniffed the booze, then came to the safe. There was something oddly empty about it, but Jarvis hadn't known what was normally kept there. Above it was the dumbwaiter.

Steve opened the panel and shone his flashlight down but it couldn't make out the bottom. The car itself was stopped just above the opening so he tugged on the rope and it wheeled into view. It was empty, but when he kept wheeling and the top came into view he found two things: a gun and a woman's shawl.

Steve used the corner of the shawl to pull the gun out of the cubby. Natasha appeared at his side and whistled lowly. "Better dust it," Steve said, "but I'll bet my hat it's clean."

"That would have more weight if you ever wore your hat."

Steve coloured. It was true that he kept his hat in his car more often than not. He liked to be able to run his fingers through his hair while he thought. 

It turned out, however, that his hat, wherever it was, was not at risk; there were no prints. He popped open the chamber and examined the bullets inside. It was a six round revolver. One round had clearly been fired, the casing still in the chamber, the rest were still full. He dumped the bullets out on the desk and one caught his eye. He picked it up and showed it to Natasha.

"That's a blank."

Instead of a bullet at the end of the round, it had been crimped closed around nothing. "Indeed. But the bullet that shot Stane was definitely not." Steve looked back at the dead body. "Definitely not."

"You know who uses blanks?" Natasha offered.

"Hmm?"

"Magicians."

"You think it was a trick gone wrong?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps? Or if not a trick, perhaps an attempt to intimidate?"

"Perhaps."

"Why is only one bullet a blank, though?" she asked, rifling through them all. 

Steve shook his head. "I don't know." He put the bullets in one pocket and the gun in the other. He turned to the shawl. "Did any of the ladies report a shawl missing?"

Natasha checked her notes. "Not so far, but perhaps during interviews it will come up."

Steve pulled it flat and noted the tear about halfway down, rough and dirty. "I rather think it will…"

"I've found Mr. Stane's diary," Natasha announced.

"Yes? What's entered for today?"

She flipped a page. "He had an appointment with his tailor this morning. An entry that just says 'Robert' at four p.m. and two meetings listed during the evening."

"Two?" Steve raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

"Yes, indeed. One with his majesty, Thor Odinson at eight o'clock, and another with 'L.L.' at eleven-thirty."

"Eleven-thirty? That's awfully late for a meeting. And who is L.L.? The same L.L. who wrote the letters?"

"No one in the house has those initials."

"What about Laura?" Steve offered.

"Her last name is Roche."

"Hmm. Perhaps it was a phone call? Something international which made the late hour necessary?"

"Quite possibly. Though he seems to mark calls with a 't' and the number. Perhaps he forgot this time." Natasha closed the diary. "I guess that's everything the room has to tell us."

Steve led the way out of the study. "Put a call in regarding what we found and I'll set up for interviews in the tea room."

"Yes, sir."

While Natasha went to the hall phone to ask the office for any information on "Raza Gulmira," and if Stane was known to have dealings with anyone with the initials L.L., Steve settled in the tea room again and rang for Jarvis. 

He appeared promptly. "Yes, sir?"

"Could you please ask Lord Barton to join me here?"


	4. Lord Barton and The Vision

"Thank you for coming to speak with us," Steve said, standing to shake Lord Barton's hand. His palm was surprisingly rough in Steve's, calluses in a unique pattern underneath his fingers.

"Not much of a choice, I suppose," Lord Barton said with a chuckle. Then he added, more solemnly, "Not that I'm not completely at your disposal, Detective."

"Glad to hear it." Steve gestured Barton into a chair. "First, I'd just like to hear your account of what happened tonight, from around dinner time to when Mr. Stane was found."

"Alright. Sure." Barton twisted his hands together, leaning forward in his seat to brace his elbows on his knees. "Well, dinner was fun, I guess. I'm meeting a lot of these people for the first time so -" He gestured vaguely. "Anyway, I can't remember who suggested we play cards, maybe Pepper. I don't know. I'm not very good at cards, but I seemed to be having beginner's luck!"

"Excuse me, but back at dinner - Mr. Stane left part way through the meal?"

"Did he?" Barton paused to think. "I suppose so. I don't know why, though."

"Something else had your full attention?"

Natasha chose that moment to slip silently in the room and Barton gave her a nod before continuing. "Mr. Stark did, actually. He's an inventor. Makes fascinating stuff. But, yeah, people were in and out all through dinner so I couldn't say. Veal was wonderful, though. Not chewy at all."

Steve gave a nod to continue him on.

"Right, so cards were played, and I was winning to the distinct disappointment of the ladies. Pep- Miss Potts said something about being cold, I think, or maybe that was Jane. Tony seemed annoyed, I remember that."

"Then what happened?"

"Well, they fought, sir. Quite loudly." Barton leaned in closer. "I'll admit, the gossip in me was rather amused to hear it. At the time, of course, before we knew anything was wrong."

"Was anything wrong at that time? Surely if they were arguing, Mr. Stane was still alive."

"Oh yes, I just meant, looking back now on what happened later rather puts a damper on the night, doesn't it?"

"Quite."

"Well then the bike backfired and we all rushed to the door to see what it was. And it was Mr. Barnes, apparently. A rather stormy fellow, isn't he?" Barton said with a nervous-sounding chuckle. "I believe Mr. Stark and the maid took him upstairs to get him settled - rather bold, letting a complete stranger loose in your house but I suppose in a house like this that happens rather often, people looking for help."

"No one seeks help at your home, Lord Barton?"

"Oh, ah. No, sir, not generally. It's rather… out of the way."

"I see. And after Mr. Barnes' arrival?"

"We went back to the sitting room. Only, the Colonel and Miss Potts hadn't returned so we couldn't finish the game - a shame. So I - uh - I had a drink."

"You went straight back to the sitting room and didn't leave again?"

"That's right, sir. I didn't leave again until Pepper screamed and we all came running."

"What were you doing in the sitting room? Just drinking? Did you talk to anyone?"

"No, I don't believe I did. I got a drink and took a seat in the corner. I was rather tired by then."

"But if your group had wished to return to losing at cards, perhaps you would have been blessed with a second wind?"

Barton had the decency to blush a little as he smiled. "Well, yes, perhaps then."

"Did you hear the gunshot?"

"Yes, of course. It was very loud. Sounded like it was right next to my ear!"

"What time was that?"

"Oh goodness, I couldn't possibly say. About half past eight, perhaps?"

"Alright. And who was in the room with you when the gunshot sounded?"

"Oh, ah. Well." He cleared his throat. "One wouldn't want to say wrong. I believe Miss Foster was there with her fiancé, the prince. And Mr. Stark was there."

"Is that all?"

"All that I can remember."

"Then what happened?"

"Well the noise seemed to draw everyone back into the sitting room, but I couldn't say for sure what order or where from. Miss Potts and the Colonel had been outside for a walk. Tony made a joke about another bike backfiring and we all laughed. Then shortly after, when we were about to head to bed, Pepper went in to say goodnight to Mr. Stane and well…"

"Yes, of course. Alright. Were you very surprised to find Mr. Stane shot?"

Barton raised his eyebrows. "Well, yes, of course. I don't think anyone expects a dead body to be a guest at a house party. But if you mean, was I surprised that if someone was shot, it would be Stane? Then no, I suppose not. He was charming in a way, or… charismatic, but not kind, I don't think. No, not kind at all."

Steve reached in his pocket and pulled out the gun. "Do you know who this gun belongs to?"

"Oh." Barton's eyes went wide. "Yes, I do. It's, well, it's  _ mine."  _

"This is your gun?"

"Yes, sir."

"When did you have it last?"

"It was in my case when I arrived. I honestly hadn't looked for it since so I can't say when it disappeared."

"When did you arrive?"

"Two days ago."

Steve opened the chamber and showed Barton it was empty. "How many bullets were in it when you last checked?"

"It was full, sir. All six. I keep that weapon for personal protection, you know, uh, wild dogs in the woods at night and so on. So I keep it armed. Rare occasion to use it, though, but I would have checked it before I packed it."

"Do you keep any additional ammunition in your case?"

"Yes, sir. I keep a small bag with a few rounds." Barton's eyes remained fixed on the gun. "You don't… I mean… it wasn't my gun that was used to kill him, was it?"

Steve's eyes narrowed slightly. "Nothing's been confirmed as of yet, but it does seem that way."

"Goodness. I can't imagine - I mean. Well. Alright. Suppose that means I won't be getting it back."

"I'm afraid not, sir. Dangerous to carry a loaded weapon in your trunks anyway." Steve raised an eyebrow at him, and Barton coughed.

"I suppose so."

"And this shawl?" Steve presented it. "Do you know whose it is?"

"Oh, hmm. I'm not sure. One of the two ladies, I suppose, but they both had shawls and I don't remember the colours."

"Do you know of anyone that Mr. Stane knew with the initials L.L.?"

Barton shook his head.

"Is there anything else you can remember about that night? Anyone acting oddly, a strange conversation, an unexpected noise?"

"The evening was nothing but unexpected noises! But no… no I can't think of anything else."

"Okay, thank you."

Barton stood to go.

"Oh, just one final question before you go, sir."

"Yes?"

"Do you have reason to suspect anyone in the house?"

"You're asking me who I think killed Stane?"

Steve tipped his head to the side in caged agreement.

Barton sighed. "I think it was probably Tony. As I understand it, their relationship was rather contentious. Every man has to get out from under his family eventually, but sometimes they don't let you leave…" His expression twitched and then was smoothed under control. "Anyway, just speculation. I really don't know, sir. I suppose it could have been anyone."

"But it wasn't you."

"What? Oh, no. No, of course not. No reason at all to kill anyone, let alone a man I hardly knew."

"Alright. Thank you."

Lord Barton left the room.

Next to join them in the interview room was the magician, The Vision. 

He sat placidly in the chair offered to him, hands folded in his lap, expression blank. He was wearing makeup, not quite as flamboyant as it would be on stage, but still giving the impression of large features and dark, intelligent eyes. There was something familiar in those eyes that Steve couldn't quite put his finger on.

"You're a stage magician?" Steve offered.

"Yes, sir. And I do sleight of hand as well, for parties and the like."

"Forgive me, but are you very popular?"

The Vision didn't seem bothered by the question. "No, sir, but I get by."

"Were you invited as a guest to this party or as entertainment?"

For the first time, The Vision seemed hesitant. "To be honest, I'm not sure, sir. I received the invitation in the mail and it wasn't clear. It happens, sometimes, and I'm happy to do a few tricks to delight the ladies in exchange for an evening of good food and good drink."

"Was it good food?"

"Oh, yes. The lamb was stunning."

"Did you do any tricks?"

"Nothing more than a little sleight of hand earlier in the evening, before dinner. No one asked for anything more."

"Alright. Tell us your account of the evening."

"Yes, sir. Mr. Stane was called away during the meal. He didn't say what for."

"Do you have any idea what drew him away?"

The Vision blinked at him. "No, sir. As I said, he didn't say."

"Right. Go on, please."

"The rest of dinner was pleasant. After dinner, a few of the guests played cards. I spoke with Prince Odinson for a time. He's an interesting man. Mr. Stark left the room, and I overheard an argument between him and Mr. Stane. Some time later, a bike backfired in the drive and we went to see what was happening. A stranger arrived. I didn't catch his name. We reconvened in the sitting room while he was settled upstairs."

When he paused, Steve looked up from his notebook.

"Then we heard the gunshot."

"Did you realize it was a gunshot at the time?"

"No one seemed to think so. But it sounded like one to me. I don't know much about mechanics, however."

"So you wondered if it was a gunshot when you heard it?"

Vision just blinked. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand the question."

"Alright. Go on. What happened next?"

"Miss Potts went to the study and found Mr. Stane dead."

"Why did she go to the study?"

"She said she wished to bid him goodnight."

"She said? Did you suspect she had another reason?"

"Well, no, sir. But I can't say for sure what anyone's reasoning is beyond my own. Only what they claim."

"Right." Steve tapped his pen against his notebook. "Is that all you remember?"

"Then the police were called and we gathered in the sitting room again. And now I'm here."

Steve managed a smile. "I see. Thank you. A few more questions for you. Did you leave the room at any time after dinner?"

For the first time, the man seemed to have to pause to consult his memory. "Yes. I visited the lavatory after drinks."

"Did anyone see you leave?"

"I do not know."

"Do you know whose gun this is?"

"Oh my. No sir, I do not."

"Do you own a gun, Mr… Vision?"

"No, sir."

"None of your tricks involve guns?" Steve prodded.

The Vision paused for a moment. "No, sir. No."

"But it is common, is it not, for stage magicians to do tricks involving guns?"

"I suppose it may be." He was firmer now. "But I do not."

"Okay. And this shawl? Do you know who it belongs to?"

The Vision shook his head then paused. "I believe Miss Potts has one that is similar."

"Thank you. I'm also curious if you know anyone involved with the family with the initials L.L."

He thought for a moment. "No, sir. Not that I can recall."

Natasha held up the notebook they had found in The Vision's room and he paled slightly under his makeup. "And this?"

"Pardon me, ma'am, I'm not sure what you mean by that question."

"What is this book?"

"It's just a notebook of mine. For random thoughts."

"Most of your random thoughts seem to be names and addresses."

"I… have difficulty with faces and names. My memory doesn't seem to be wired that way. So I note down people I meet."

"And then cross them out?"

He shrugged. "It is my system."

"You have Stark's address in here."

"I must have noted it down from the invitation. I took a cab from the train station and I needed to be sure to give him the correct address."

Natasha nodded. "Mhm. Alright."

"Thank you," Steve said. "You may go. But we may need to speak with you again."

The Vision left the room. Steve turned to Natasha. She shook her head and dropped her gaze back to her notebook. "I found something of note when I put the call in to Carter," she said.

"Oh?"

Natasha handed over a blank notepad with several pages missing. Steve recognized it immediately. It was the same pages that  _ Raza Gulmira  _ had been written on. 

"I found it by the hall telephone."

Steve rubbed his thumb over the paper but whatever had been written last hadn't pressed through to the pages below. "Interesting."

But Steve would have to contemplate that later, because next up was the Norweigian prince and his fiancée.


	5. Prince Thor Odinson and Miss Jane Foster

"Well," said Thor Odinson, Prince of Norway, with a bright smile, "what can I possibly do for you, Detective?"

"You can start by giving us your account of the evening, your highness. In as much detail as you can manage." Steve wasn't sure if his particular title called for the formal address, but in these matters, erring on the side of politeness generally went well for him.

"Alright. Well, I'm not sure I saw anything at all of use, but I'll do my best." He clapped his hands together then brushed back his long, blond hair, graceful fingers dodging a braid that ran from his hairline back behind his ear. Shrewd, blue eyes tipped up towards the ceiling in memory. "I suppose I should start with dinner. It was a comfortable affair. Good food, good drink - and plenty of it - and delightful conversation."

"Did you know any of the other guests?"

"No sir, not until tonight. Well, except for my dear Jane, of course."

"Okay. Go on, please."

Thor tipped back in his seat, fingers steepled together, thinking. "Well, at some point Mr. Stane was called away, for a phone call, I guess. And he didn't reappear."

"Mhm."

"So, hmm. Well the ladies wanted to play cards and Lord Barton and Colonel Rhodes obliged. I had an interesting chat with The Vision about his tricks. Quite a fascinating gentleman. Some of the illusions… well. I was delighted. Our conversation was interrupted, though, I'm afraid."

"By what?"

"An… argument." Thor coughed. "Mr. Stark and Mr. Stane. It was rather loud. Unfortunately, The Vision found it quite awkward and slipped out of the room. I finished my drink on my own."

"Can anyone attest to that? That you stayed in the room during the argument?"

"Ah, well." He thought for a moment. "I do think my dear Jane caught my eye a few times, but unless one of them happened to notice me, I suppose not. Oh, perhaps the butler. He brought round coffee some time around then."

Steve gestured him on when he paused.

"We heard the noise and went to see what it was."

"Who is 'we'?"

"Myself, my fiancée, Miss Potts, and the Colonel. And Mr. Stark, the housemaid and the butler were in the hall. There was a stranger at the door. Interesting looking man. He explained it was his bike backfiring and they took him up to a room. I went back to the sitting room with Jane and got her a brandy as she was quite shaken up from the loud noise."

"Did you see anyone else in the sitting room?"

"The butler came by again. And the maid, I think, cleared some glasses."

"Which maid? The housemaid or the kitchen maid?"

"Oh." He winced. "Sorry, I don't know. Wasn't really paying attention."

"You were talking to Jane?"

"Ah, no. She'd popped out at that moment to powder her nose. So unless they passed in the hall, she wouldn't know."

"And then?"

"Then I met with Stane."

Steve raised an eyebrow at that. "No one else was aware anyone saw him after his drink. But you did?"

"Yes, sir. We had a meeting arranged in advance."

"Now, please don't take offense at this question, your highness, but how did you come to receive an invitation to this rather intimate party? Couldn't your business be discussed at the office?"

"Ahh." Thor leaned back in his chair. "I must admit, there was some deception there."

"Oh?"

"Mr. Stane had reason to want to meet with me. Mr. Stark and I had met a few times, briefly, when we were in school, so Stane asked that Mr. Stark extend me an invitation. I admit, it was rather awkward, but I had an appointment with Mr. Stane to discuss some business. It was the entire reason I had come at all. I assumed that if, after the argument, he wasn't feeling up for it, he'd send me on my way. So I went to his office and knocked."

"Did he call out to invite you in or get up to open the door?"

"He called out - softly, though. I'm not sure anyone else would have heard."

"And what was your meeting about?"

Thor shrugged. "Stane was hoping to develop some sort of allegiance or alliance between Stark Industries and my cousin's corporation, Valkyrie Incorporated. There's some conflict within my family, so we both felt that any discussions should be kept rather quiet, for now, and that it was better I come socially, able to boast a connection to the host, rather than my cousin herself."

"How did your meeting go?"

"He didn't seem that bothered, after all. He was in good spirits. We shared a drink, discussed our business and then I left him in the office."

"He was well, then? What time did you leave him?"

"Hmm. Well, it must have been quarter after eight by then. He was well enough. Perhaps a bit frustrated but I got the impression it wasn't unusual for him to disagree with his nephew."

Steve tapped his pen against his notebook. "Did he ask after the backfire?"

"Yes. I told him a stranger's bike had misfired and he muttered something about too many people in the damn house. I thought it perhaps odd that he didn't go out to greet them, but I suppose the house does belong to Mr. Stark, not him."

"Did you discuss anything beyond the business?"

"Nothing of consequence. Just niceties, really. I complimented the lamb, which was quite lovely. He mentioned the weather. We laid the foundation for business together, and that was that. I left him in good health."

"What did you do then?"

"I returned to the sitting room."

"And then?"

"And then we heard the gunshot."

"Was anyone in the room with you?"

"Jane was back by then," he said firmly. "And Mr. Stark came in right after. Colonel Rhodes and Miss Potts were right behind him. It wasn't long later that Miss Potts went to collect him and found him dead."

"Did you have an idea what the noise was when you heard it?"

"No idea, sir. Mr. Stark made a joke, I think, about another bike. It's a big old house. I suppose they make a lot of odd noises. Pretty sure there's a ghost living next to my room. Thumps and bumps all hours of the night."

"Are you aware you're likely the last person to see him alive? Beyond the murderer, of course."

Thor looked distinctly perturbed by that. "Oh. Well, yes. I suppose so. How uncomfortable. I wish I could say we'd discussed something more valuable or meaningful. Or that I could provide you with some useful information." He sighed.

Steve reached down next to his chair. "Do you recognize this gun?"

Thor peered at it closely then shook his head. "No, sir."

"This shawl?"

"That's Miss Potts'."

"You're sure?"

"Very sure."

"Lastly, do you know anyone connected to the family with the initials L.L.?"

Thor shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. My connection to the family is tenuous at best. I couldn't claim to know all their friends or relations."

"Thank you, your highness. I believe that's all we need now."

Natasha pulled Stane's diary out and peered at it again. "The only two people to see Mr. Stane after Mr. Stark were Mr. Jarvis with the nightcap and Prince Odinson. You know, I can't help but wonder if they discussed something more pressing than the vague promise of a future alliance."

"Perhaps." Steve looked over her shoulder at the agenda book. There was something slightly off about the entry "Thor" for eight o'clock. Almost as if it had been written by another hand. "Or perhaps his highness hasn't been entirely honest with us about his reasons for coming here. With Stane dead… well there's no one to refute it if his business wasn't with Stane at all."

"And we mustn't forget the letters found under his dresser. Maybe his business was blackmail and Stane didn't agree to pay up."

"True. Though I've had another thought about those."

"Yes?"

"This party has only been here for a few days. Perhaps under the dresser was merely a clever hiding spot for someone else. It's a place unlikely to be discovered by the staff, but by using a guest room, it provides a bit of cover if they are found. After all, we still don't know who L.L could be - it could be anyone under an assumed name."

"You mean Mr. Stark?"

"Perhaps. After all, we still do not know what their argument was about."

"You think Thor is an innocent with bad timing, then?" Natasha asked.

But Steve had no answer.

He hoped their next guest would provide some, but Jane Foster had her hands twisted together nervously and her lips pressed into a tight line as she stepped into the room. "Hello."

"Good evening, Miss Foster. Have a seat, please."

"Thank you."

"You're here as Prince Odinson's guest, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"So you don't know any of the other people in the house?"

"No, I didn't. Not before I arrived."

"What do you think of the house guests?"

"What do I - Oh. Well. They're all very nice. I'm very fond of Miss Potts. And Mr. Stark is frightfully clever. It's quite fascinating to hear him speak."

"You and Prince Odinson haven't known each other terribly long, have you?" Steve asked gently.

But Jane bristled anyway. "Long enough, sir."

"Yes, yes, quite. I'm sure." Steve did his best to placate her. "Alright, Miss Foster, please go on and let us know how the night continued."

"I can try." She cleared her throat. "Dinner started at half past five and ended at quarter past seven. Mr. Stane barely made it past the salad course before he got called away to business. I asked Miss Potts if that was common for him and she, well -" Jane paused and dropped her voice low. "She rolled her eyes."

"I see."

"The lamb was very good."

"Did everyone else sit through all of dinner?"

"Well. I'd say everyone got up at least once. Between dessert and coffee it was a mess of shuffling chairs."

"Did anyone go to Stane?"

"Not as far as I know. Though I did hear the kitchen maid saying something about needing more of the beets for Mr. Stane. They were very tasty." Jane folded her hands in her lap again. "We sat for drinks for about twenty minutes then Miss Potts suggested cards. Lord Barton is quite good. Too good, perhaps." Her eyes twinkled. "Anyhow, Mr. Stark seemed somewhat distressed, and he and Miss Potts - as old friends can be - got a bit snippy with each other. It was rather cold that evening, at that point. The wind was wild."

"Did they argue?"

"Oh, nothing serious. But Mr. Stark went to speak with Mr. Stane. Or so he said."

"When was that?" Steve asked.

"About half past seven. A few minutes later, we heard the first noise."

"The bike backfiring?"

Jane pursed her lips. "Well, we didn't know what it was at that point."

"What did you think it was?"

"Honestly, Detective? I thought it was a gunshot."

"You're well acquainted with what a gunshot sounds like, my dear lady?"

Jane bristled. "That's what I felt it was at the time. Obviously, I was proven wrong."

Steve hummed. "Indeed. And then?"

"Then the strange man arrived at the door. Mr. Barnes, he said his name was. I went back to the sitting room with Thor."

"Did both of you stay there until Miss Potts found the body?"

"Yes."

"You didn't leave the room? Even to powder your nose?"

She shook her head. "No. At eight thirty, the second noise happened. Everyone came back to the sitting room at that point. Mr. Stark and the others thought it was funny. I'll admit, I was a little frightened. I live in a flat in the city. It's not the sort of noise I'm used to."

"And then?"

"And then we finished our coffee, had a brief chat, and at around quarter to nine, we decided to go to bed. Miss Potts went to summon Mr. Stane, to say goodnight. And we heard her scream."

"It was a loud scream?"

"Very loud. The third terrible noise of the night." Jane shivered.

Steve deftly shifted the conversation. "Now, do you know anyone with the initials L.L.?"

She tilted her head to the side. "Why's that?"

"Just looking to answer a question."

She waited a moment, as if hoping for more, then shook her head. "I don't think so. Or - I think the housemaid was called Laura, but I don't know her last name."

Steve pulled out the gun. "Do you recognize this?"

Jane opened her mouth with a tilt of her head that looked like she was going to answer in the affirmative, but then she snapped it shut again and shook her head. "No, sir."

"How about this?" He pulled out, instead, the gun they'd found in her things.

She coloured prettily. "Oh yes, that's mine. It wasn't involved, was it? Last I checked, it was safe in my bag."

"We don't believe it was, no, but we've confiscated all firearms, just in case. If you don't mind my asking, for what does a lady in your position have need of a weapon of this magnitude?" He measured the weight of the gun in his hand.

"As I said, Detective, I live in the city. A girl can't be too careful, can she?"

"No, I suppose not. Though she can be rather dangerous." He made a note in his book. 

"Perhaps I should have been even more careful," she added lightly, "considering how we're toeing the line of evidentiary procedure."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Stark has encouraged us to search anything that might aid us in our investigation."

Jane smiled at that, giving Steve a demure nod of her head. "Of course. I completely agree."

"Do you have any ideas about what happened this evening?"

Jane shook her head again. "No, I'm afraid not," she said slowly. "It could be anyone, really. Anyone."

"Except your fiancé, surely?" Steve said with a chuckle, but a bright light in his eye.

"Well. Surely, not. I trust him, of course. He's a dear. He has no reason to kill anyone." There was something flat in her words that gave Steve pause.

Steve wondered if, perhaps, the man in question trusted her just as much. After all, there was a pretty glaring conflict in their story, and it was one no one else could confirm or deny. So was Thor protecting Jane or the other way around? Or, perhaps, they were each protecting themselves.


	6. Colonel James Rhodes and Miss Pepper Potts

Colonel James Rhodes crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. "Happy to be any help I can."

"Wonderful." Steve opened his notebook to a fresh page. "Just your account of the evening, Colonel, starting with dinner."

He blinked up at the ceiling for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Dinner was perfectly nice. Everyone seemed in good spirits, except for maybe Obie, who was working too hard." Rhodes' brow pinched in.

"Was that common for him?"

"Exceedingly so." His eyes didn't roll, but it seemed that they were just on the brink of doing so. "He took a call and never came back, so of course Tony went to him. He always does. He's been trying to make Obie pay him any attention at all since his father died. And they fought, which everyone heard, of course."

"My apologies, could I take you back to dinner? Mr. Stane left early on?"

"Yes, sir, sorry. Of course. Yes, dinner was fine. Tony had perhaps a bit more to drink than I like to see from him, but work has been rather stressful of late. I had never met a few of the guests, but of course Tony and Pep and I have known each other for years."

"Does Mr. Stark often have parties where the guests are mostly strangers to you?"

"Oh, yes, all the time, I'd say. The parties are… well, they're a front, really."

Steve's eyebrow quirked up. "A front?"

"Oh, not like that. I mean that it's not really what he's like. He likes to invent things. He's quiet and funny and far too honest for his own good. He's fiercely loyal to his friends, but there aren't many people he'd actually consider friends. The parties are more - were more, for Obie. For the company. Making connections, that kind of thing. So he invites anyone he feels like he should. He's good at hosting, but it takes a lot out of him, you know?"

Steve nodded sympathetically. "And you knew Mr. Stane well?"

"Oh yeah. Known him as long as I've known Tony, which is a hell of a long time. We hunt together, Stane and I."

"Here on the property?"

"Yes. Or sometimes we visit friends' grounds. Tony isn't much for shooting, so Obie and I would go."

"I see. Alright, please continue."

"Okay, so we played some cards, just for fun. Lord Barton's pretty damn good -" he turned to Natasha "- excuse my language. The ladies were a bit cold, though I think it was more likely the loud wind making them feel that way than it really being cold inside. Tony finished his cigarette and went to talk to Obie."

"Was that normal for Stane and Stark?" Steve asked. "To talk like that during a party?"

Rhodes shrugged and sighed. "I suppose. They didn't fight much, but Tony struggled, sometimes, with wanting to take the company in one direction and not being able to." His brow furrowed. "Not that I think he'd do anything about it! There's no question that he'd never hurt Obie, ever. He loved that man like a father. And Obie was, you know, taking care of him, protecting him…" Rhodes shifted in his seat. "He was doing what he thought was best. But Tony wasn't a kid, anymore. He had ideas. Anyway… where was I?"

"Mr. Stark and Mr. Stane had an argument."

"Right. So we could all hear that. Made a few people uncomfortable, of course. Pep and I - we were worried about him. I could tell she was worried too. Then we heard the bike backfire - I was thinking about going to see if Tony was alright after the argument - but then we heard the bike backfire, and he stuck his head right in and asked if we knew what it was."

"Which way did he come from?"

"From the hall - by the front door," Rhodes said firmly.

Steve noted that down. "And you recognized it as a bike backfiring?"

"Oh, uh. Yeah. That's what it sounded like."

"Alright. What happened next?"

"We went to the door and found Mr. Barnes - as he called himself. He went upstairs with Tony and the maid to get settled. Pepper - Miss Potts - said she was a little unsettled so I offered to take her for a turn around the garden."

"Which way did you go out?"

"We went back to the sitting room to get her shawl then stepped out the French doors from there and went around the garden."

"Was it not raining?"

"Oh no, the weather was much improved by then. A bit of wind, but the storm had broken and it was rather lovely, actually."

"And what did you and Miss Potts talk about on your walk?"

Rhodey seemed to hesitate. "Well. Nothing of consequence. Just personal matters."

Steve let it go. "The shawl Miss Potts needed to get, was it this one?" He held up a corner of the shawl he'd found in the dumbwaiter.

Rhodes leaned forward to look at it then settled back in his chair, shaking his head. "No. No that's not hers. Maybe Jane's? Or one of Tony's other friends."

"You said he doesn't have many?"

"Well. He doesn't have many close friends, people who really know him, you know? But he has a lot of visitors at the house. Lots of stuff gets left behind. Ends up in weird places."

"I see. Thank you." Steve set the shawl down again. "Please, go on."

"We had a nice walk, talked about Tony a bit, and about her job. Talked about the other guests. Then we came back in and just as we stepped in, we heard the shot."

"Where were you at that point?"

"We were just pushing the door open - the front door - when we heard it."

"Where did it come from?"

"From the study."

"Did you see anyone leave the study?"

"No, we went into the sitting room."

"And who was in there?"

"Uh. Everyone, I guess. Except Mr. Barnes, who was right behind us."

"Everyone?" Steve prompted.

"Tony, Prince Thor… Miss Foster, Mr. Jarvis… I think Lord Barton. I wasn't really paying attention, you know."

"Of course, that's fine, Colonel."

"We stayed up a little longer and then Pep went to say goodnight to Obie, and, well…"

"Of course. Thank you." Steve cleared his throat. "You have a service weapon, correct? This one?" He held up the gun they'd found in Rhodes' room.

"Yes, sir. That's mine."

"Has it been fired recently?"

"No, sir. I keep it unloaded."

"Okay. Anything else you think we ought to know?"

Rhodes shook his head slowly. "No… no, I suppose not. Look, I don't want to… cast doubt on anyone, but this house is full of strangers. I don't know Lord Barton, or Jane Foster, or Prince Thor, or The Vision. And then that man with his bike shows up halfway through the night?" He shook his head again. "I don't know…" He trailed off and then didn't seem inclined to go on.

"Thank you Colonel Rhodes."

"Wish I could be more helpful."

"You've been perfectly helpful."

Rhodes shook both their hands then slipped out of the room.

A few moments later, there was a soft knock then Miss Potts stepped inside. She took the seat Steve stood to offer to her then folded her hands in her lap. There was something eminently confident and capable about Miss Potts, but in this moment, she looked nervous.

"How are you doing, Miss Potts?"

"Well. As well as one can expect, I suppose. I've known Mr. Stane for a long time, Detective. It's rather… startling."

"Of course, I understand. Thank you for taking the time to speak to me."

"I'm sure we all want to get to the bottom of this."

"I appreciate that. And we'll do our best to take as little of your time as we can." Steve cleared his throat and opened his notebook. "You are Mr. Stark's secretary?"

"Yes. I was Mr. Howard Stark's junior secretary for a few years and then Tony -" she smiled softly "- 'poached me,' as he likes to say. But we're more than that, Detective. We're best friends."

"Must be wonderful to work for your best friend."

Miss Potts glowed. "It really is."

"Tell me about this evening."

"Well, dinner was lovely. Tony thinks he's smart but his cook really is a true genius. Such tender lamb. Of course Obie got a call and missed most of it, but, well -" She pursed her lips. "The wind was wild. We played cards after dinner, which I always enjoy." She paused, eyes flicking away, and when she spoke again, her voice was shaky. "I can't believe something like this could happen."

Steve pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and leaned forward to offer it but she sniffed sharply and waved it away. "I'm fine, thank you. So. Tony and Obie had a disagreement -"

"Do you know what about?"

She sighed. "The same argument they've been having a lot lately, I assume. Tony wants to move the company in new directions, research, development, progress. Obie wanted to focus on what had already made them money, in Howard's time, in his time."

"So this wasn't a new argument for them."

Pepper paused for a moment. "No. At least, not from what I heard."

"And then what happened?"

"Then - um - oh! Then the first loud noise and the stranger arrived. Mr. Barnes. That interrupted Tony and Obie's argument."

"They hadn't stopped arguing before that?"

"No, I don't think so."

"But Mr. Stane didn't come out to see what the noise was?"

"Oh no. I'm not surprised. He would expect one of the servants to let him know if it required his attention. In his mind, we're all still kids throwing loud, raucous parties and as long as he gets his drinks delivered and makes the connections he needs for work, that's all that matters to him." She frowned down at her lap. "Mattered."

"Were you and Mr. Stane close?"

Miss Potts opened her mouth then snapped it shut again. She shook her head. "I think Tony was the only person left he was close with." A dark storm passed over her face. "He and Howard had been very close. He never really… I don't think there were many women he was close with at all. He never married." She looked as if she might say more, but then she stopped and waited.

"After Mr. Barnes arrived?"

"Ah, yes. Well, it was all rather chaotic so I made a comment about being out of sorts and Rhodey - Colonel Rhodes - suggested we go for a walk and I agreed. We stopped in the sitting room to fetch my shawl then went out in the garden."

"Out through the French doors?"

"Yes."

"Go on."

"I heard Mr. Jarvis bringing Obie his nightcap as we were leaving, and I thought about going to speak to him about Tony, but you know, he doesn't really listen to me. Then I thought maybe I should talk to Tony, but Rhodey thought it was best to wait until after the party." She sighed. "Anway, we had our walk and we came back in -"

"Through the French doors?"

"Oh, um. No, through the front doors."

"Were you in the front hall, then when the shot sounded?"

"No we - uh." She thought for a moment. "No we were just outside, stepping in. We saw Tony stepping into the sitting room so we followed him. They were joking about the sound."

"Who's 'they'?"

"Hmm. Prince Thor and Miss Foster were there. I believe Lord Barton was there - or maybe he came in right after. Mr. Barnes was right behind us."

"He came down the stairs?"

"I - I guess so."

"Then what happened?"

"Then we - we - well, we talked for a moment longer. And then - well, then I decided I  _ would  _ go talk to Obie. So I told the others I'd bring him out to say goodnight and I opened the door and -"

"Miss Potts." Steve leaned forward. "I hate to make you relive this, but it's very important, if you can manage it, to tell us more. Was the door unlocked? Did you knock?"

"I -" She took a moment, her fingers twitching in her lap as if she was opening the door again. "I did knock, but I didn't wait for an answer. The door was unlocked. He was - he was sitting with his drink in his hand. I didn't - I didn't see anything else. I saw the blood and his eyes and I just -"

"Okay. That's fine, Miss Potts. We don't have to talk about that anymore."

She nodded, relief clearing her troubled expression.

"It was clear there had been a fire in your grate this evening. What was the reason for that?"

Miss Potts flushed slightly. "Ah, well. I admit I was rather shaken, being the one to find him and all. I got quite chilled - I hear the shock can do that. So I asked the maid to set a fire and I lay down for a few minutes."

"And you were alone?"

Something unreadable passed over Miss Potts' face. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, I just thought, perhaps Mr. Stark or Colonel Rhodes or one of the maids might have sat with you, to make sure you were okay. No one called a doctor?"

"Oh no, it wasn't that bad. I just needed some quiet and to warm up. I was quite recovered after a few minutes."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Is that all?"

"I believe that's all. Thank you, Miss Potts."

Before interviewing Mr. Barnes and Mr. Stark, Steve and Natasha decided to take a break. Steve sought out Mr. Jarvis and followed up on a few things with him. Jarvis confirmed that the bike had been moved by Barnes himself up to the garage while they waited for the police to come, to clear the drive, so Natasha went out to the garage to check his case while Steve took a turn around the outside of the house with his flashlight. 

He started by the front door. It was large and ornate, difficult to open and close quietly, but not impossible. He walked around the east side of the house, past Stane's study, but the study had no window. There were no open windows or disturbed ground. The rain earlier had left the ground wet and soft and he had to pick his way carefully across the lawn so as not to sink in to his ankles.

He passed the hall window, then the formal living room, which the whole house staff agreed was rarely used. When he reached the sitting room, he paused. He could see the four French doors, three with the curtains drawn and one left uncovered. Steve picked his way up towards the door and looked down. All four doors opened out onto a single stone step which gave way to lawn. Between each door, was a thin strip of garden, small clumps of flowers giving a decent try in the crisp, Spring air.

There was one, single, perfect footprint pressed into the soft ground. Steve bent over it. Men's size ten, it looked like. A dress shoe. Same as Mr. Stark's, but Colonel Rhodes' were larger. He looked around for the unmistakable indentations of a lady's high heel, but there were none. Besides the one footprint, the ground was clear. 

Steve walked all the way around the house, finding nothing more than a hole dug in one of the flower patches by a wild animal or maybe one of the dogs, and some damage to the outer brick, high up by the second story windows, from the vines that crawled their way up the house. Steve wondered what the house had been like, back in its glory days, freshly built by Howard Stark Sr., Mr. Tony Stark's grandfather. 

He also wondered if the Starks had fallen so far that their last remaining heir would resort to murder to keep his inheritance in his grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loving all the speculating in the comments! Remember, you take reading the comments into your own hands if you don't want anyone else's ideas to "spoil" you, so to speak :D But also feel free to talk to each other, if you like! <3


	7. Mr. James Barnes

Natasha was still in the garage, so Steve went back inside and found Jarvis about to head upstairs. He paused, hand on the banister and turned back down to where Steve was. "Is it alright if the guests return to their rooms? I gather everyone is rather feeling the late hour."

"Yes, that should be fine. We'd still like to speak to Barnes and Mr. Stark before they go to bed, however."

"I'll be sure to let them know, thank you, sir."

Steve looked at Jarvis' hand on the banister and thought about broad shoulders. "Is there another way from the upstairs down?" he asked.

Jarvis paused for a moment. "You mean the back stairs, sir?"

Steve startled. "There's a back stair? But the staff all use this one."

"Just habit, sir. The back stair creaks horribly and when the Starks passed, Mr. Tony Stark asked that we stop using it. As far as I know, the door is locked, but the key is on a ring in the kitchen, so I suppose it's possible. Do you think someone used it to hide, sir?"

Steve shook his head. "Just exploring all the options. Thank you." Steve stepped past Jarvis, up the stairs and to the end of the hall. The door there, that he'd assumed was a closet, wasn't locked, and when he opened it, it revealed a narrow, steep staircase. He trotted down the stairs, which did creak violently, and poked his head out of a door in the hall by the stairs to the kitchen. "Hmm." He turned back and looked up the stairs. They didn't necessarily lead out near enough to the study to pass to it unnoticed, but it did shift the possibilities a bit. Just as he was about to turn away, a wisp of white caught his eye. He stepped back up - halfway - and bent down. 

It was a handkerchief, not white, actually, but pale pink. In the corner, picked out in delicate, red embroidery was two letters.

_ L.L. _

Steve lifted the handkerchief to his face and sniffed it. It smelled like lavender. The edge was shabby and re-sewn where it had torn. He tucked it in his pocket. The mysterious L.L. was a woman, then and he only had one idea of who that might be.

He made his way down to the kitchen and inquired of the cook where Laura might be found and was told she was down in the laundry. He found the rickety steps to the laundry room and was just turning down them when Lord Barton came trotting up the other way. "Oh! Excuse me, Detective. Jarvis said it was alright if we go to bed now, yes?"

"Yes, that's fine. We have a few more interviews and we ask that everyone stay the night to speak to us again in the morning, but you can go to bed. Was there something you needed downstairs?"

Barton looked a bit flushed, like he'd been running up and down the stairs for a while. "Oh no, nothing, really. Just spilled some of my morning coffee on my pillowcase and thought I'd bring it down and save the maid the trip. Anywho, best be off to bed. Thank you." He nodded and slipped past Steve and down the hall. 

At the bottom of the stairs, Steve found Laura with her arms full of towels. "Sorry to bother you."

"Oh, no bother." She dropped the armful. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Lord Barton need something?" He gestured towards the stairs and her eyes followed.

"Just, um, dropping off a soiled pillowcase. He's awfully kind."

"Hmm." Steve pulled the handkerchief out and held it towards her. "Is this yours?" he asked gently.

Her face went even redder than it already was and her hand came up to cover her mouth. "Oh, lord."

"So it is then?"

"Yes, yes, sir, that's mine. I'm so sorry."

"I asked you if there was an L.L. in the house and you said no," Steve reminded her, letting some sternness slip into his voice. 

"I know. I'm so sorry, sir. Really I am. Only… there really isn't."

"There isn't?"

"No, sir. See, I was L.L., a long time ago. Laura Lakely, that was my married name. But I'm not married anymore, so I've gone back to my maiden name, Roche. He died from drinking. Can't say I was sorry to see him go, and I don't want to carry his name around with me, anymore. But these…" She took the handkerchief and held it delicately in her palm. "These were a wedding gift and I couldn't bear to part with them. I always thought I might pick out the second L or something and never got around to it."

"What were you doing on the back stairs?"

She bit her lip. "We servants use it sometimes when we want to move quickly. I know Jarvis and Cook don't like it, but if you step right it hardly makes any noise at all. I was just running back down to the laundry for more towels for Mr. Barnes and it must have fallen out of my pocket."

"Alright." Steve leaned a little closer. "And what were you doing setting up a meeting with Mr. Stane at eleven-thirty?"

She blinked at him, seemingly utterly perplexed. "I had no meeting with him. Wasn't he shot by then?" 

"It was in his diary."

"Oh. Well it wasn't with me, sir. I had no reason to meet with him."

"You know, my dear, if he was taking advantage of his position at all to -"

"Oh no! Sir. No, no. Mr. Stane wasn't always  _ kind,  _ but he wasn't  _ cruel.  _ Not like that. He never touched me. Made comments sometimes, I suppose, but no. I swear, sir. I didn't have anything arranged with him. I didn't say anything earlier when you asked cause I was scared why you were looking for an L.L. and it's not me, not really, not anymore. If it was in his diary, it was someone else, though. I've been Roche since the day he met me when I was first hired here and that's how everyone knows me. I swear."

"Alright, alright. That's okay, then. Thank you." Steve left Laura with her pillowcases and made his way back upstairs where he found Natasha waiting in the tea room. "Anything?"

She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Yes?"

James Barnes opened the door and peered in. "You asked for me?"

"Uh, yes, Mr. Barnes, thank you." Steve gestured him into the chair, an odd twist to his expression. 

"Seems I arrived in the middle of quite the night," he said blandly.

Steve sighed. "Seems so. I just have a few questions for you and then you can continue on to bed."

"Not a problem."

"What time did you arrive at the house?"

"Hmm, not sure. I didn't explicitly check, but there's a large clock in the front hall, and I believe it was around eight in the evening, shortly before or shortly after."

"And where were you headed, Mr. Barnes?"

Barnes hesitated. "Into town. I was recently released from a stay in hospital after my tour with the army and I've just been travelling around, looking for a place to settle."

"And you're considering settling here?" Steve leaned forward a little.

"I don't know. Depends if I can find anything for me here." His eyes went a little wide. "Work, I mean. If I can find work."

"Alright." Steve nodded slowly. "So you arrived around eight pm. Your bike broke down?"

"Yes. Damn thing wouldn't start again. I was near the end of the drive of the house, and the lights were on out front so I thought it was worth going up to knock and asking if they had a mechanic on staff, or if I could maybe sleep in the garage or barn until morning when I could call someone in. I've relied on the kindness of strangers for a lot of my travels and it's been rather wonderful how rarely my faith in that has been to my downfall."

"Well. That's lovely to hear. I'm glad of it. You came up and knocked on the door," Steve prompted.

"Yes, and it was answered by the butler, a maid, and the man of the house, Mr. Stark."

"Had you ever met Mr. Stark before?"

Barnes' jaw worked for a moment. "No."

"Alright." Steve tapped the tip of his pen on his notebook. "Was anyone else there?"

"A few more people arrived as I was speaking with them. Uhh Miss Potts? And the Colonel - didn't catch his name. Oh and the other one. Barton."

"Did you see Mr. Stane at all?"

"No." Barnes' voice was short and clipped.

"Did you see anyone coming or going from the study?"

"I didn't even know which door the study was."

"You do now, though, surely?"

"Yes, when Miss Potts screamed, we all went to see what was the matter. And found Mr. Stane shot. When I arrived, I didn't see anyone in that part of the house. Mr. Stark took me upstairs almost immediately and I was cleaning up until the gunshot."

"I understand your clothes were rather wet."

"Yes, I'd been biking in the rain for a while at that point. It stopped just before the breakdown - thankfully - but riding a motorbike does rather expose you to the elements."

"I see. So you went upstairs to clean up. Was anyone with you?"

"The housemaid drew me a bath and prepared a room. Mr. Stark walked me upstairs. Then I was alone. Someone else was upstairs, but I don't know who."

"Someone else was upstairs?"

"Yes. I could hear them walking around."

"Not Laura? The maid?"

He shook his head with conviction. "No. Other direction, down the hall. They walked from a room to the top of the stairs and then stopped. Then I got in the bath and didn't hear anything else."

"How long were you in the bath?"

"No long - maybe only five minutes."

"Then what did you do?"

"I went straight downstairs. While I was dressing, I heard the gunshot. I hurried down and found everyone in the sitting room, seemingly unconcerned."

"You didn't see anyone coming from the study at that point?"

"No, sir."

"And then…?"

"Well, I offered to try and find alternate arrangements for the night, but Mr. Stark insisted I stay. By then, the ladies were talking about bed so Miss Potts went to fetch Mr. Stane to bid everyone goodnight and that's when we heard the scream."

Natasha spoke up. "Mr. Barnes, you have no preconceived notions about anyone in the house, surely -"

He nodded, brow furrowed in confusion.

"- so do you have any opinion on who might have done this?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "Seems like Mr. Stark is the obvious choice, doesn't it? I've barely spoken to anyone in here, but I understand he and Mr. Stane weren't on the best of terms, at the moment. Pretty classic case of getting a roadblock out of the way, no? Though, I'm not the detective, am I..." He looked pointedly at Steve whose jaw tightened.

"Thank you, Mr. Barnes," Natasha said. "We'll ask that you stay the night and wait to make your phone calls tomorrow until we've spoken with everyone again."

"Sure. Of course. I can go to bed?"

Steve stood and gestured him towards the door. "Yes. Thank you. Goodnight."

Barnes left. 

Steve paced back and forth across the room, tapping his pen on his notebook.

"When are you going to tell me?" Natasha said, halting his progress. He turned to look at her.

"Pardon?"

"When are you going to tell me what it is about him?

"I don't know what you mean."

She nodded then sighed. "I thought as much." She pulled her own notebook out, opened it and tugged out a folded piece of paper she'd tucked between the pages. She tossed it on the table in front of Steve. "I found it in Barnes' case."

Steve picked up the paper with shaky hands and unfolded it. It was a photograph, imperfect, a little blurred, but there was still no question as to the subject matter. Two men stood side by side in army uniforms, one grinning with pride like he'd told a particularly funny joke and the other laughing, head thrown back. It was many years old now, but there was still no question as to who the two men were. Anyone currently in the house would have been able to match the faces but only Steve knew the two men's full names:

James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers.


	8. Mr. Tony Stark

"Steve. Don't make me arrest you."

Natasha's voice pulled Steve out of his reminiscence. He blinked up from the picture. "You won't have to do that. I have nothing to do with the murder."

"And Barnes?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know him now. We were best friends in the army, almost six years ago, I guess. We were just kids and he was like a brother to me. A year older, he made sure I stayed safe."

"You had a falling out?"

"Oh no. Not like that. We got blown up." Steve laughed hollowly. "He hit his head, forgot everything, forgot his family. Forgot what he was fighting for. He was in and out of hospitals, but it just seemed to upset him when I visited him because he didn't know who I was. A few times I went back and told him we'd never met, that I was just visiting a fellow soldier."

"When did you last see him?" Natasha's voice softened.

"Oh, years ago. They said there was a chance he'd get his memories back some day so I left him with this picture just in case he wanted to come find me some day."

"Is that why he's here?"

Steve shook his head slowly. "No."

"Steve. Why is he here?"

"There were a few memories he always seemed able to hold onto even when everything else was gone. My mother's name. The street he used to live on. His serial number. And the name that was printed on the side of the mine that blew him up." Steve looked up and met Natasha's eyes. "Stark. Howard Stark invented it. We saw it all the time. The other side had as many Stark weapons as we did."

"Steve."

"I know."

"If Barnes killed -"

"I know.

"Okay."

"We can't assume it was him just based on that. None of this adds up - everyone's lying - and we still haven't talked to Stark. But I know what this looks like, Natasha."

Natasha reached out and squeezed his upper arm once. "Should we talk to Stark now?"

"Yes, let's get that over with. Then we can do one more search with everyone in bed."

Natasha left the room to fetch Mr. Stark, and Steve took the opportunity to settle himself. He'd long since given up on ever getting his brother back, seeing him as being as lost to him as his mother, his father. His new family was Natasha, Fury, Peggy, his other coworkers. But the picture… was it a sign that Bucky remembered him? How could he not recognize that Steve was the man in the picture, even if he didn't remember who he was?

Steve's thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and Natasha leading a nervous looking Mr. Stark into the room. "Mr. Stark, thank you for speaking to us."

"Tony, please. Mr. Stark just makes me think of my father." Tony sat on the chair.

Having him alone, looking at both of them with wide, concerned eyes, he looked younger to Steve than he had before. Younger and more scared. But Steve could also see why he was so often described as charming, charismatic. There was certainly a most appealing air about him, that it would take some effort for Steve to ignore. "Tony, then. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Complicated emotions twisted across Tony's face. "Thank you. He was my uncle, really. Not in blood, but…"

"Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt him?" 

Tony met Steve's gaze. "I don't. I really don't."

"Okay. Let's go through the evening, starting with dinner."

"Dinner... dinner was good. At least, it seemed like everyone was having a good time. That's what they're there for, right? So it was good. I maybe drank a bit too much, smoked a bit too much. I was feeling my oats by the time the others sat down to cards."

"Who played?"

"Rhodey, Pep, Barton, and Miss Foster."

"Do you know who was winning?"

"Barton, as far as I could tell. Pepper doesn't like to lose and she was snippish with him for the rest of the evening." He laughed, smile crinkling his eyes. "I gather he had quite the run of beginners luck."

"Did everyone sit through all of dinner?"

"No. Everyone was up and down, honestly. And Obie, of course, bailed out before we'd even had the main course." Tony frowned down at his hands. "I'd ordered lamb mostly cause he likes it so much."

"So he left dinner and didn't return to the sitting room?"

"Yes, that's right. So after dinner, as I said, I was feeling my oats a bit, and I decided to go talk to him. We'd been arguing a lot lately about the direction the company was headed in. He wanted more weapons. I wanted more innovation. I have travel plans next month and he wanted me to explore new avenues for weapon sales and I wanted to make connections in new markets. It was the same fight we've been having since my father died, but of course I chose this night to have it." His fingers clenched and released in his hands. "I fought with my dad, too, the night before he…"

"How did your conversation end?"

"I told him it was time he stopped treating me like I was still a child and I left. He didn't follow me. I didn't want to go back into the sitting room right away - I knew everyone had probably heard me yelling - so I paced the hall a bit and ran into Laura on her way down. We were talking when the backfire came."

"What did you think it was at the time?"

"I wasn't sure, honestly. It sounded like gunfire but so close. I thought maybe someone was hunting on the property. It happens sometimes. Rhodey and Obie like to shoot but I don't, really, but there's deer and a duck pond not too far from the house. Sometimes people sneak on my land to shoot. I don't really mind, normally, but it was so late. I went right back to the sitting room to see what it was, even stepped out the door to see if I could hear anything. Anyway, it wasn't long before there was a knock on the door."

"You stepped out the French door?"

"Yes, sir, just one step out, looked around, then the knock."

"Who was with you then?"

"Oh. Um - Lord Barton was there. Rhodey and Pepper. I don't remember where the others were. Jarvis had come up from downstairs to see what it was, by then. He answered the door. The man said he was James Barnes and his bike had broken down. I brought him upstairs and let him use my bathroom while Laura made up a room for him and drew a bath. He was very wet, though it had stopped raining by then."

"Alright. And then what did you do?"

"Then I came back down and went to the sitting room to check on my guests."

"Did you go directly to the sitting room?"

Tony shifted in his seat. "Uh. No, no, I didn't. I'll admit," he said with a sigh, "that I was pretty curious about the newcomer. Especially with some… excitement I've had at work lately. I wanted to make sure he wasn't a spy for our competitors. I went into the hall closet and checked his pockets."

"Did you find anything?"

"Yes. I found this." Tony took his hand out of his pocket and handed Steve a slip of paper. In rough, inelegant handwriting, someone had scratched out the name of the town and nothing else. If they were directions, they were poor ones.

Steve tucked the paper in his notebook. "Okay. And were you satisfied then?"

"Well, I wouldn't say so, no. But I resolved to just keep an eye on him. I planned to talk to Obie again at bedtime and warn him to lock up his study just in case. But of course…"

"But you didn't go speak to him then? Pop your head in to mention the newcomer?"

Tony shook his head. "No. I was in the hall and then I heard the second noise. I went straight into the sitting room to see if anyone else knew what it was."

"Who was in there?"

"Odinson, Miss Foster, Vision, and Jarvis. Oh and Barton, I believe." Tony looked uncertain about all the names.

"Where were Colonel Rhodes and Miss Potts?"

"Uh. You know, they came in right behind me. They'd been out for a walk."

"Which door did they come through?"

"North door, right after me. So they must have come in through the front door after taking a turn around the garden." 

"Do you recognize this shawl?" Steve held it up.

Tony nodded immediately. "Pepper's."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any idea why it might be in the dumbwaiter?"

Tony tilted his head to the side. "Guess she was sending it down to the laundry. Not unusual. Perhaps it got muddy on the walk."

It was clear from Tony's answer that he hadn't realized which of the dumbwaiters it had been found in, assuming the laundry one instead of the one to the study. Steve nodded. "Okay, thank you. And this gun?"

Tony leaned in to peer at it. "Hmm. No, I don't think I do. I'm not really a gun person, though, so I can't say for sure I've never seen it. It's not one of the house guns, though, nor is it Obie's, as far as I know."

"Alright."

"Tell me a little about your guests. How do you know them?"

"Well. As I've said, I've known Pepper and Rhodey forever. Dear friends of mine - I trust them implicitly. Odinson I met a few times in school, but it's been years. He's changed quite a lot from what I remember, actually. He was more athletic in school, less…" Tony trailed off, clearly unable to find the precise word. "Anyhow, I gather he had business with Obie so I invited him so they could meet. I really had no interest in furthering a friendship myself. His fiancée, likewise, came with him. I've never met her before. She seems nice enough, though astonishingly bad at cards. 

"Lord Barton is new to me as well, just sort of popped up in the local social scene. I invited him when we met at another gathering a few weeks ago. I liked him and felt like I needed to round out the table so I thought, why not?" Tony smiled slyly. "I rather suspect the 'Lord' is a bit  _ tacked on,  _ but what does it really matter, these days? I like him. Though he is too good at cards!" He laughed lightly. "Ah and The Vision. I can't remember how he came to be invited, to be honest. I think it was through a friend. He was to do some tricks as well, after dinner, and entertain the ladies. We never saw much, though. He's a kind enough fellow, though a bit hard to get to know. He's rather… simple? Perhaps." Tony spread his hands. "I'm afraid that's all I have, sorry."

"No need to apologize. You've been wonderfully helpful. Thank you… Tony." The first name was warm on Steve's tongue. 

"Oh! There's one more thing I noticed."

"Yes?"

"There was someone upstairs when I took Barnes to his room. I don't know who, but I heard a noise down the hall. At the time, I paid it little mind."

"Ah, okay. Thank you." Steve opened the door and Tony stepped up beside him, but instead of leaving, he paused, then took Steve's hand between both of his. 

"Thank you," Tony said. "Thank you for being here and trying."

Steve's heart stuttered in his chest. Here was a complication he hadn't expected. A budding attraction for a man who very well might be a murderer. At first glance, he was the most likely suspect.

Steve released Natasha to double check a few notes with the staff, while he returned to Stane's study. 

It would have been so much simpler if the shot had come during Tony and Stane's argument, but that would also mean it was quite cut and dry that Tony had done it, and while he'd follow the evidence wherever it led, Steve hoped Tony hadn't been the one. But who then? It felt like a piece was missing. 

Steve unlocked the study and went in, taking a turn around it and stopping in front of the dumbwaiter. He opened it and reeled the cart up and down, looking under and above it. There was nothing else there, but something about it stuck with him. The dumbwaiter had to have more to do with this than merely a place to stash the gun. He leaned in, but there was simply no way a grown man, or even a child over twelve, could fit inside. It was only about a foot square, built for nothing more than a tray or a bit of laundry. Still, it seemed all too convenient that the house had so many. 

Steve left the study, locking it behind him, and made his way down to the servant's quarters. He passed Jarvis polishing some silver and asked if it was alright if he check his room. Jarvis acquiesced so he slipped inside, closing the door behind him. He opened the door for the dumbwaiter and looked up towards the study. Again, far too small. Even a child would struggle to climb up it. He looked down. The shaft for the dumbwaiter ended here at Jarvis' floor, but there wasn't a panel covering the bottom. Instead, it went straight down to the crawlspace below and Steve could see the dirt at the bottom when he shone his flashlight on it. It was rucked up and distubed. That was odd. 

He stepped out of Jarvis' room and found a cubby that led to the crawlspace. He opened the door and managed to get his shoulders in just far enough to reach the disturbed patch of dirt. After a few minutes of awkward digging, he found his prize.

It was a bullet and a casing. The same type of bullet that had killed Stane. The same type as the two bullets missing from Barton's gun, one replaced, bewilderingly, with a blank. 

What did this mean?

**

Steve was woken the next morning by a call from his contact at Interpol: Peggy Carter. 

"Raza is a name," she explained, "Gulmira is a place. Raza is the leader of a terrorist group called the Ten Rings. Word is that they're open for hire as hitmen. If someone had a paper that said 'Raza Gulmira' on it, my guess is someone was planning a hit."

"But if someone was planning a hit on Stane, why kill him now instead of waiting for that?"

"Perhaps it wasn't for Stane?"

Steve said goodbye and hung up the phone. There were only two people in the house with enough money to afford a hit like that: Tony and Stane. He'd received reports on the others late last night. Odinson's family was socially well appointed, but his father had racked up debts his two sons were now carrying the burden of. And as far as Steve could tell, they had no reason to take out a hit on anyone. Neither Pepper nor Rhodes was well off. Jane Foster was unconnected and not particularly wealthy. Barnes had nothing after the war. Vision was a poor performer, and Barton had nothing against him, but no particular wealth or status either. A minor lordship.

But if a hit were being taken out, it would be funded by Tony or Stane. In order to access large amounts of his wealth, Tony would need to get approval from Stane so that could be challenging. Tony was also planning to travel abroad in the next few months, including an area not very far from Gulmira. Perhaps…

Steve called Natasha and explained his current musings. She agreed that it was time to gather everyone together and confront them about what exactly had happened in Stark's house last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S ALL YOU GET! :D 
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on Saturday and the final chapter will be posted on Sunday. Both chapters will reveal things, so if you want to solve the mystery, you have a few days to try. You can also wait to read the last two chapters if you don't have time now. My _hope_ is that you have everything you need to solve it in what you've already read! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading along. This is a lot of fun for me and I hope you're enjoying it too! 
> 
> (Also remember it's my virgin voyage as a mystery writer so please be gentle! I've done my best (^_^) )


	9. The Reveal Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS REVEAL WHAT HAPPENED! 
> 
> I'm posting both of these at once so you don't have to wait in between. But if you're still staring at your notes, hold off on reading 9 and 10 until you're ready to know who dunnit! :D

Steve stood by the north door of the sitting room, facing the gathered guests. The servants had crowded surreptitiously by the south door to hear the news. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me this morning."

"Did you find anything out?" Colonel Rhodes asked.

"Yes, sir."

"You know who killed Obie?" Tony asked.

"I do."

They all blinked at him.

"There was a lot to consider with this case. It seemed like an entire house full of people who both very much would have and very much couldn't have killed Mr. Stane. There were more motives than windows in this house, but rather little opportunity. And yet, the closer I looked, the fewer motives I found, and the more opportunities cropped up.

"The means was easy enough to determine. Lord Barton's gun was the murder weapon, no question. Easily taken from his room by anyone in the house. But there was something odd about the gun - one bullet fired, one bullet replaced with a blank. If I couldn't explain that, I couldn't explain the murder to my own satisfaction.

"The most unusual aspect of this case was the matter of the two gunshots - or rather one backfire and one gunshot. It, of course, occurred to me rather early on that the actual murder may have taken place ealier than everyone assumed it had. Therefore, I had to consider both shots, both possible timings of the murder, as well as finding an explanation for the other, if it wasn't, in fact, a very fortuitously timed bike backfiring.

"But Stane was still alive after the first noise, both Jarvis and Prince Odinson can attest to that. So it had to be the second bang that was the killing shot. But it does leave me curious about that backfire and the unlikeliness of a coincidence.

"I must also consider the other evidence I discovered. Let's review the timeline as it has been presented to me, shall we? Everyone sat down to dinner shortly after six. At about half past six, Stane received a phone call and went to his study to take it. He didn't return to the table. After dinner, Colonel Rhodes, Lord Barton, and the ladies sat down to cards. Odinson and Vision chatted. Mr. Stark sat for a while to drink and smoke, then left to speak to Mr. Stane. They argued. The first bang. Mr. Barnes arrived at the door. He went upstairs with Laura and Mr. Stark. Mr. Jarvis brought Mr. Stane his evening drink and shortly after, Prince Odinson entered the study and spoke to Mr. Stane for a few minutes about business. Mr. Stark came back down and looked through the pockets of Mr. Barnes' jacket. The second bang. Everyone returned one by one to the sitting room, not concerned that the sound was anything deadly. Just before nine, Miss Potts went to the study to bid goodnight to Mr. Stane and found him dead.

"So it stands to reason that after Prince Odinson left Stane's office, someone - any one of you - slipped into the study and killed him. No one has an alibi of more than one other person, and so many of you, as it turns out, have reason to lie. So let's take a closer look, one by one.

"Let's start with perhaps the most unusual member of this party, 'The Vision.'" Steve pressed his palms together as everyone's gaze swung to the magician. "It was hard to put together much of anything about The Vision. There was a short and recent stage history, scattered all about, but not much else. In his room, we found a notebook and there were many names and addresses scribbled down and crossed out. Most recently, "Edward" and this house. When we asked Mr. Stark and the staff, even the other guests, no one knew how you'd come to have an invitation to the party in the first place. In fact, we could find no connection whatsoever between you and Mr. Stark or his friends. And yet that "Edward" tortured me. It's Anthony Stark's middle name. And the address, his house. What was it? A robbery, perhaps? Travelling showmen and mediums are often a cover for thievery, but nothing in your luggage suggested as such and the only thing anyone was missing was the gun used to shoot Stane.

"James Barnes," Steve continued, "was new to the house. An unexpected guest, we have no one to account for his whereabouts during the first shot. As for motive, he has a strong one - it was a Stark weapon that injured him and cost him his memories. Perhaps the time had come for revenge, hmm?"

Barnes turned bright, concerned eyes on Steve. "I…"

"And now we turn to you, Miss Foster."

She placed a hand on her chest in delicate surprise.

"It was clear early on that you weren't quite who you said you were. We found a gun among your possessions. Unusual for a young lady such as yourself, but it wasn't the gun used to shoot Stane. Your diary is empty and there's almost nothing personal at all among your things. You claimed you didn't leave the room after the first bang, but your fiancé said otherwise, which also brings us to Thor Odinson. For we can't examine Miss Foster without also examining her husband-to-be."

Steve dug out his notebook. "Prince Odinson, as it would seem, was the last man to see Stane alive, besides his murderer. Unless, of course, he _was_ the murderer. He went in, shortly after Mr. Jarvis brought Stane his nightcap, and they briefly discussed business. He left the room and only a few minutes later, the gunshot was heard. No one was in a position to see if Odinson had left before or after the shot, and within a minute or two, everyone was back in the sitting room. 

"Miss Foster also left the sitting room for a while, around the time of the gunshot. And no one can say with absolute certainty where she was after the card game was interrupted by the backfire. So we need to examine the possible motive for either of them to commit this crime. 

"Odinson's family is hard up, so money makes sense, but Stane's death doesn't open up money to them, only to Mr. Stark. If Odinson and Stark were close, perhaps I'd wonder if he expected to get a handout from his dear school friend, but Stark, it seems, barely remembers those days, likewise the man. And then we found the letters, stashed underneath a dresser in one of the guest rooms, signed "L.L." The same person who had an appointment scheduled with Mr. Stane that evening, well after bedtime. The letters accused Stane of double dealing his weapons on both sides and demanded payment to remain silent. There's only one L.L. in the house, Miss Laura Roche, who once went by the name Lakely."

Laura gasped and wobbled where she stood, caught on the elbow by the cook. Tony and Lord Barton hopped to their feet in indignation, but Steve waved them back down again. "Be patient," he advised, "I haven't accused anyone of anything just yet."

He took a moment to compose himself, then began again. "There was another new piece of information I received from the room search. Someone had ordered a hit on Mr. Stark. I found a piece of paper with 'Raza Gulmira' on it. A known hitman and a location where Mr. Stark was expected to travel in the next few months. With Stane dead first, everything would go to Stark - likely Mr. Stane's fortune as well, as he had no wife or children - and then with Stark dead…

"So I'm left with blackmail against Stane himself, a hit ordered on Mr. Stark, two potential timings of a gunshot, a dead man and no one with a solid alibi. I ask myself - who benefits from Stane's death? And would anyone benefit from Stark's death more if Stane were dead first?

"Mr. Stark, of course, is the obvious answer to the first question. He comes fully into his inheritance and no longer needs to argue with his adoptive uncle over the direction the company is taking. Additionally, if he's aware of the double dealing, he may have wanted revenge.

"Mr. Barnes may be seeking revenge. Mr. Stark's closest friends, Colonel Rhodes and Miss Potts have to gain as well. Their dearest friend would suddenly have much deeper pockets and neither of them is particularly well off. Colonel Rhodes and Miss Potts have long had to watch Mr. Stark at war with his uncle. It's not hard to imagine that frustration turning into violence. Miss Potts' shawl was also found wrapped around the murder weapon. She asked for a fire last night, which she claimed was to resettle her nerves, but the paper that said 'Raza Gulmira' was found in _her_ grate, half burned."

"In truth, anyone who loves Mr. Stark, of course, may also have acted in his best interests, to protect him from the constant stress of arguments with Mr. Stane, so that includes you and all the servants who are clearly very fond of their master.

"As for Miss Foster and Prince Odinson, if they were the ones responsible for the blackmail - as the letters were found in Odinson's room -"

Miss Foster suddenly cut him off. "The letters were found in Thor's room?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And they're signed L.L.?"

"Yes ma'am."

Her expression darkened. "Do any of the letters mention the codeword 'Tesseract?'"

Odinson startled up from his seat, wide eyes on his fiancée. "Jane -?"

Steve nodded. "Yes. Several."

Jane stood suddenly and pulled a pistol from her skirt. She pointed it steadily at Thor Odinson. "You're under arrest for blackmail, coercion, and terrorist activities."

Thor's hands rose in the air.

Steve pulled his own weapon from its holster. "Miss Foster. I must ask you to lower your weapon."

"My name isn't Foster. My name is Agent Maria Hill and I'm with the CIA. And this man isn't Thor Odinson."

Everyone gasped. 

"Who is he then?"

Jane - or rather, Maria - reached into her pocket and pulled out a badge which she tossed to Natasha. Natasha inspected it then gave Steve a short, sharp nod - it was legitimate.

"This man is his adopted brother, Loki Laufeyson," Steve explained, his rhythm somewhat disrupted.

Hill nodded. "I've been assigned to his case for four years. When I found out he was travelling as Thor - who is staying with friends in Wakanda right now - I pretended to be a young lady who had been exchanging letters with Thor and was in love with him. As Thor and Jane had never met in person, it was easy for me to pretend that I believed Loki was who he said he was. My goal was to find definitive proof of the blackmail, which also ties Laufeyson to a number of other crimes." She turned to the man in question. "You're going down, Loki."

The man seemed to melt in front of them, the joviality wiping off his face as his expression twisted dark and stormy. He brushed his fingers back through his dyed blond hair and grimaced at his feet. When he looked back up, there was a clever light in his eyes he'd been hiding before. It was as if he'd been wearing a disguise that had now been peeled away. The whole room recoiled.

"You lied to me," Loki purred at Maria, showing teeth when he smiled.

All soft kindness was gone from her face and her aim never twitched away from Loki. "Inspector Romanoff, would you mind?"

Natasha nodded. She took the proffered handcuffs and bound Loki's hands behind his back. Agent Hill finally lowered her weapon. "Sit," she ordered, and Loki sat down on the couch. She smiled at Steve. "So sorry for interrupting. Please continue."

Steve had to admit, even he was rather flustered by Agent Hill's revelation. "Right. Well. Thank you for staying. After I learned about the Odinson's current affairs, I suspected that Thor was in fact his brother, Loki. The peroxide, makeup, and oddly sized clothing are all explained by pretending to be his brother, but his motivation is what we have to call into question. He was blackmailing Stane, successfully, it seems, so if he kills him, he loses the source of money. But what if Stane threatened to stop paying? To expose him? What if Thor found out? What if, in fact, the hit - _Raza Gulmira_ \- was meant for Loki?

"Loki was the last person to see Stane alive, but he claims to have been back in the sitting room for the actual time of the gunshot, which has been confirmed by Jane. There was also an entry in Stane's diary for an L.L. At first, I thought perhaps Stane was engaging in something illicit with the maid, Laura Roche, nee Lakely, but no, that meeting was for Laufeyson. Why, then, were there two entries for meetings that night with Loki, one under his brother's name, and one under his own? Loki also claimed the door was unlocked when he knocked and Stane called him in. But Jarvis assured us that the door was locked after he brought Stane his nightcap."

Steve paused. "And then we come to Lord Barton. In and out much of the night. Surprisingly good at cards, and his gun was the weapon that killed Stane. No one can say with certainty where he was during the gunshot, and I caught him coming up the servant's stairs last night for no justifiable reason. Last but not least, he's also not who he says he is.

"We must consider the staff, as well. No one seemed particularly fond of Stane, but the entire household loves Mr. Stark and would do anything to protect him. Laura's handkerchief was found on the back stairs, which apparently the staff was not supposed to use. Mr. Jarvis had a key to the study and was in and out of the room at least twice during the night."

Steve clapped his hands together. "So what are we left with? We have a household full of possible murderers. Everyone, it seems, has a secret or a reason for killing Stane. But there's only one way that the murder could have gone that explains everything that happened here last night."

He took in the rapt crowd. "So who was it? Let's turn back to The Vision and consider things more closely."

"Naturally, I was suspicious of a man who had no invitation to attend the party. But it wasn't until much later that another possibility occurred to me. The stamp on his trunk from Ultron Orphanage and the notebook - there were so many crossed out names, this was clearly a man searching for someone. Something that as yet, he hadn't been able to find. A person. And perhaps Edward wasn't the correct name either. Being an orphan, I had to wonder - his family? But who was that?

"Then 'The Vision,' or shall I saw, Victor Shade, tipped his head in a peculiar way to recall a memory and I suddenly saw the resemblance, suddenly realized why his eyes were familiar to me. He wasn't searching for an 'Edward.' He had almost the right name, just a little off. It was Edwin, not Edward. Edwin Jarvis." Steve turned to The Vision. "He's your brother, isn't he?" 

"Oh my goodness." 

Steve looked up to see the unshakable butler shaken at last, one hand pressed over his face and eyes wide with shock. 

The Vision ducked his head. "Yes, yes he is. We were separated as children, very young, but I had memories of being together. I tracked him all over the country, tracing names and lineages, searching orphanage records. Finally, I found him, here, working as a butler. It was - well. I found out Stark was hosting a party and I invited myself. I find if you show up with confidence, they'll let you in almost anywhere." He turned to Mr. Jarvis. "As soon as I saw you, I knew. But then… my confidence failed me and I found I couldn't confess my real purpose in coming here. I'm so sorry. But -"

"Well, yes. Oh my.'' Jarvis stepped forward and clutched The Vision's hand in his. "How lovely to meet you."

"You too."

Steve clapped his hands lightly together. "A touching family reunion, but it hardly addresses the question at hand, though it does answer all those I had amassed regarding The Vision. He had no reason to want Mr. Stane dead and no opportunity by which to accomplish it." Steve cleared his throat, waiting while that information sunk in. 

"So we turn back to the wanted criminal, Loki Laufeyson. But even with all his lies, I find it hard to believe it was Loki. Why such an elaborate crime? Why kill the man who so far had been paying out the blackmail? There was no evidence to suggest that Stane had refused to pay and if he had, why would he have asked Tony to invite this man to the dinner? Stane had Laufeyson in his book under his real name, L.L. so he was aware of the deception, in on it. No, I rather think Mr. Stane had an offer for Laufeyson. An opportunity to join forces, perhaps. Maybe even a deal that would come into play after Stark was gotten rid of in Gulmira. But I suppose we will never know if Loki will not tell us."

Laufeyson grinned slyly but said nothing.

"Lord Barton…" Steve turned to the man in question. "I had several questions regarding your testimony. One, why were you out of the room during the gunshot? Two, why did you describe dinner as being veal when everyone else knew it was lamb? I had to ask myself - were you present throughout the meal? Did you miss the main course - a fact you failed to disclose to us - for some nefarious reason? But no… I realized there was a much simpler explanation. So I only have one question to put to you, Lord Baron."

"Sir?"

"Who are your parents?"

Barton's mouth opened then closed again. "I…"

"That's alright. All we really need to know is how you came about the Lordship. Are you a Baron, sir…? Perhaps your father…?"

Barton's lips twitched. "Yes, yes, okay. I know you know so I suppose I might as well confess. The title is a fake. My name is Clinton Barton and I have no parents, no family - except for a good for nothing brother. I… I got my start in the circus. I made a few friends that way, ran into Stark at a party I really had no business being at. Told him I was a lord to get a seat at the table."

"You identified the meal wrong simply because you don't have much experience with well-cooked food and couldn't tell the difference between veal and lamb," Steve explained. "And so I posit - Mr. Stane found out about you and to protect your secret, you killed him. It was your gun, after all." 

"No! Of course not," Barton protested. "It really wasn't that big of a deal or that big of a secret. I was just planning on winning a bit of cash at cards and having a good meal then moving on…" Barton trailed off.

"But?" Steve prompted. "But perhaps you found a distraction? One that had you out of the room during the gunshot, no?"

Barton's cheeks flushed. "Yes, sir." His eyes cut across the room to where Laura was looking rather pale. "I fell in love. Laura and I were together at the time of the shot… in the back stairway."

Steve nodded, taking a turn across the room. "That was when her handkerchief fell."

"Yes, sir. She used it to wipe a little lipstick from my cheek."

"Laura is this true?" Tony asked.

She nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm very sorry, sir, but… but I love him."

Tony smiled softly. "That's alright. Don't you worry." Then he turned on Steve. "Surely, you don't think Laura did it?"

Steve shook his head. "Of course not. The initials are bad luck - the note in Stane's diary had nothing to do with Laura. These two were together at the time of the gunshot, and besides the gun being Lord Barton's, I could find nothing connecting him to Stane. As he says, the secret was not a big one - and it was one I feel you suspected anyway, Mr. Stark."

Tony half-shrugged, half-nodded with a sly smile.

"Surely, not worth killing over. And while perhaps one of the ladies might have reason to do away with Barton himself when they discovered how deftly he cheated at cards -"

Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodey turned to him in surprise, but Hill merely shrugged. 

"- he is not the victim today." Steve raised an eyebrow at Tony's two friends who were still looking rather put out. "We will have to come back to you two."

"Next, I considered Mr. Barnes. He had a rather extraordinary motive, and frankly, fascinating means. The backfire from his bike made everyone jaded to a loud, sudden noise. He was upstairs alone, apparently taking a bath. While difficult, he'd be able to grab the gun from Barton's case, run down the back stairs, shoot Stane, and run back up to rub a wet towel through his hair and give the appearance of having bathed." 

Steve turned to him now, startled by the new recognition in Bucky's eyes when he looked at him. "But we didn't find anything about Stark in your case or your clothes. Your bike really is broken down, and you'd need to have intimate knowledge of the house to get down the back stairs without creaking the bad step to shoot him while you were supposedly in the bath. And with Laura and Lo- Barton - ahem - _occupying_ the back stairs we can also be sure that no one used that path as a means to get to Mr. Stane."

Steve clasped his hands together. "We also found two things in your case that give me… hope to wonder if you were here for another reason, perhaps. The name of this town, and a particular picture?"

Barnes let out a slow breath and nodded. "I regained many of my memories over the last few years, particularly, memories of our times as friends, brothers."

The room gasped.

"I had come here to find you. It was pure bad luck that my bike broke down outside of Stark's place. I didn't even know it was his. When I found out who my host was, I admit, I was perturbed, but I had no knowledge of Mr. Stane. If I'd committed a murder tonight it would have been Tony Stark himself."

Tony turned rather pale at that.

"Which, obviously, I didn't do, nor do I intend to." He nodded in Tony's direction. "It was your father's weapons, not yours. I can respect that you were trying to take the company in a new direction."

"Uh. Thank you." Tony shifted uneasily in his seat.

Barnes turned back to Steve. "I remember our friendship. I came looking for you for answers to some questions. But I understand if that's not enough to free me from suspicion."

Steve nodded slowly. "It's a rather tenuous excuse, but the truth remains that it would be nearly impossible for you to kill Stane. While my old affection for you is not enough to count as an alibi, thankfully, I cannot see a way you could have committed this crime. Especially not when the path to the truth is much simpler. No, I believe you are innocent."

Barnes nodded and sat down shakily, rubbing one hand roughly over his face.

"And then we come to Mr. Stark," Steve said.


	10. The Reveal Part Two

Tony fidgeted where he sat, wide eyes turning on Steve. "The young heir to the Stark fortune - but is he really?" Steve stood and paced his way back and forth across the room. "Despite the flashy parties and the showy expenses, most of Stark's money is tied up in the company. And the company was tied up in Mr. Stane.

"Mr. Stane's interest in Stark Industries made it almost impossible for Mr. Stark to accomplish the things he had planned. He was a road block at every turn, constantly redirecting the company back to the weapons its initial success had been built on. Multiple witnesses said that Tony and Stane fought regularly and always about the same things: the company and money. In fact, the two of you had a fight last night, didn't you?"

Tony's expression didn't shift, held cool and impassive. "Yes, we did."

"Your guests all said that wasn't unusual for you. No one can account for your whereabouts when Stane was shot. Stane had a gun in his desk, but that wasn't the gun used to kill him, which suggests premeditation. Perhaps, it had all just become too much. You fought. Stane still refused to see things your way. The arrival of Mr. Barnes interrupted your argument, but even after bringing your unexpected guest to his room, you were still angry, fuming. You knew about the gun in Stane's desk, but how to get to it without him realizing what you were doing, calling out? No, you needed a gun in hand when you walked in. 

"So you went down the hall to Lord Barton's room. Perhaps you'd seen a gun there earlier or perhaps you checked everyone's room until you found one. Either way, you hid the gun on your person and snuck back down the stairs. You waited until the butler delivered Stane's nightcap and returned to the servant's quarters and Laufeyson had been in and out. Then you walked in, shot Stane before he had a chance to cry out, threw the gun in the dumbwaiter and immediately returned to the party. You made a joke about the noise, knowing everyone would attribute it to the weather or another backfire. People are a lot less jumpy about the second time they hear an odd noise - it's just background at that point."

Tony opened and closed his eyes, panic starting to leech in past his cool exterior.

"Is that what happened?" Steve asked.

Tony shook his head. "No. That's not it at all. Obie and I had always fought but he was family to me. I never would have hurt him!"

Steve tapped his fingers on the edge of a table then made a fist and rapped sharply. "I know."

"What?"

"I know you wouldn't hurt him. Even if he hurt you. That's not who you are. But most importantly, if you did kill Stane, it wouldn't have been like that. Everyone I spoke to agreed on two things: you and Stane had a difficult relationship, and you'd do anything to protect your friends. Killing Stane at the party would put everyone you loved in danger. No… if you killed Stane, it'd be when no one but you could be suspected. You're a genius, Mr. Stark, but even if the cover of the party was your safest choice, it's not a choice you would have made. You as the killer also doesn't explain all the facts. And besides, there's a witness that can attest that you weren't in the room at the time of the murder."

"There is?"

"There is. Two witnesses, in fact."

Steve waited, eyes fixed on Tony until there was a soft clearing of a throat from the other side of the room. He smiled.

"I saw him," Rhodey said. "We saw him. Pepper and I weren't outside for a walk. That's why there were no footprints. We were upstairs, and we saw him from the landing. We were waiting for him to move so we could come downstairs."

Steve turned to him and nodded. "Ah, yes. Because you hadn't yet told Mr. Stark about your engagement, had you? You didn't go for a walk which is why there were no footprints from either of you in the soft ground. You used the distraction to sneak upstairs and spend some quality time alone together. Miss Potts left her shawl in your room and when you returned downstairs, you realized it was missing. You planned to return it to her after bedtime, but when Obie was killed, you realized your whole story would be called into question if it suddenly changed and the shawl was found in your room.

"You snuck upstairs to hide the shawl and that's why Romanov and I caught you on the stairs. You heard us coming before you could put it in Miss Potts' room so you shoved it down the dumbwaiter." He paused for a moment as everyone stared at Rhodes, wide-eyed. "That alone, comes close to exonerating you - who would be careless enough to shove their lover's shawl down the same dumbwaiter where the gun was hidden? Especially when there are four such dumbwaiters to choose from, one of which goes to the laundry, I'll add. No, you panicked and you put it there, having no idea it was about to become tangled up in the murder weapon. I'm sure if I stood here today and accused Miss Potts, you would hurry to correct me."

"Absolutely."

"But, on the other hand, if it hadn't come up…"

Rhodes acknowledged that with a rueful tilt of his head. "I had no desire to expose our relationship in this way." He turned to Tony. "I'm sorry, Tones. We wanted to tell you but…"

Tony shook his head. "It's fine. I'm happy for you two. It's a good thing." He reached over and squeezed Miss Potts' hand. Her eyes welled with tears.

"So Colonel Rhodes places Mr. Stark in the front hall at the time of the shot, while he and Miss Potts were both upstairs. It would take a complicated web of lies and leave several unanswered questions if Mr. Stark were to blame, and not necessary, I think, when there's a simpler answer." Tony tilted his head in curiosity, but Steve turned away, taking in the whole motley crew. "No, it wasn't Mr. Stark that killed his uncle."

Tony looked around at the gathered group. "But… that's everyone. If we're all innocent -" he glanced at Loki "- of the murder, anyway, then who could it possibly be?"

Steve leaned back against the table and steepled his fingers in front of him. Then he shrugged. "Perhaps Mr. Stane killed himself, overcome by guilt at his shady business practices." Tony and Pepper both opened their mouths to protest and Steve raised a finger, silencing them. “Then again, perhaps the butler did it.” 

As one, they all turned to look at Mr. Jarvis.

He was standing at the back of the room by the door, hands folded carefully in front of him. He met Steve's eyes and there was a sadness there ringed by a fierce determination that Steve had only seen flashes of over the past two days. 

"No!" Tony said. "You're grasping at loose straws, Detective Rogers. Why, Jarvis has been in the family for years! He wouldn't hurt a fly. He loved Obie."

"There's only one sequence of events that explains everything," Steve said. "And it begins and ends with Mr. Jarvis." Steve looked at the butler who gave him a small nod, encouraging him to go on. "Mr. Jarvis knew about Stane's double dealing, but more importantly, he knew about Stane's plot to have Tony Stark killed. He was the one who took the phone call that night - the call that pulled Stane away from dinner. He'd had his suspicions, I imagine, of the double dealing - perhaps he saw the same evidence Laufeyson had - and so he listened in after Stane retired to his study. He heard much that concerned him, and on the notepad by the hallway phone, he wrote down two words of import:  _ Raza  _ and  _ Gulmira. _

"Jarvis loved Tony as dearly as his own child and vowed to prevent Stane from ever being able to hurt him. Permanently. Only Jarvis can say for sure, but I imagine he'd been looking for the right opportunity to do what needed to be done for a while now. Finding out about the kidnapping plot meant his timeline was limited. Stane was about to transfer the money to finalize the hit, I'm sure, which would mean it would take place even after his own death. When Mr. Jarvis found the gun in Lord Barton's luggage, he stole it, along with a bag of ammunition, hoping that at some point over the weekend, he'd find his opportunity.

"And find it, he did. Jarvis' primary goal was to protect Tony from suspicion. As the victim of Stane's plot, Tony was of course, the obvious suspect. But Jarvis also wanted to protect himself, as much as was possible, without pinning the blame on any one other person. So he needed to manufacture a crime where everyone was a suspect and no one was. I think, had he known just how much deception and trickery was at play in this house, he might have done things differently."

Jarvis smiled ruefully. 

"On the night of the murder, everyone was playing cards in the sitting room when Mr. Stark decided to go speak to Obediah Stane. They fought, which everyone heard clearly, and Mr. Stark left the room, annoyed. In the hall, he ran into Laura, the housemaid, and they spoke briefly. While they were together, Jarvis - who no one had noticed leaving the sitting room - slipped into the sitting room and shot Stane."

The room broke into confused chatter, and Steve held out a hand to quiet them.

"The backfire everyone heard wasn't a backfire at all. It was Stane being shot. A moment before, Jarvis had seen the motorbike stop at the end of the drive and Mr. Barnes start his way up towards the house." Steve turned to Bucky. "Mr. Barnes, did your bike backfire loudly when it failed?"

Bucky tilted his head to the side. "Well. Not really, I wouldn't say so. It kind of puttered out. There was a bang, but likely not loud enough to be heard at the house over the wind, I suppose, not from the end of the drive, at least."

"Jarvis was counting on that. There was a loud bang and then a moment later a knock comes and a man in bike leathers says his bike has failed. Of course, everyone assumes it's the explanation they were looking for. By then, Jarvis had put the gun in the dumbwaiter, locked the study behind him, and made his way to the front hall. He asked Tony and Laura if they knew what the noise had been, gesturing towards the front window as if, to him, it had come from that direction. Tony looked in on the sitting room, asking if anyone else knew what it was, but when Barnes arrived, the question was marked as answered: a backfire."

"Then what was the second noise?" Hill asked.

Steve took a deep breath and continued, "Mr. Jarvis was faced with a problem at this point. Stane was dead, but Tony was the last person to see him alive, and only Laura could attest that he hadn't been in the room when the shot was fired. Additionally, Jarvis had no alibi for himself. In order to protect Tony and himself, he needed to find a way to  _ change the time of the murder.  _ So that's what he did. He waited until Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes went out to the garden, Tony went upstairs with Barnes, and Thor, Jane, and Lord - er - Mr. Barton went back to the sitting room. Then he took a tray into Stane's room and asked him loudly if there was anything else he needed. That meant Stane was still alive when he received his nightcap. Jarvis even drank a little from the glass so it would look like Stane had started drinking when someone else had come in and shot him. Jarvis waited, watching, until Tony came back downstairs, headed for the sitting room. 

"Jarvis decided that It was the perfect time to create the killing shot. Tony would be safe in the sitting room with three eyewitnesses - Barton, Thor, and Jane. Rhodes and Miss Potts had gone outside via the French doors and wouldn't have been able to go around the house, back through the front door, and to the study without being spotted, Barnes was upstairs with Laura, cleaning up. Everyone was safe.

"He slipped down to his quarters, making sure to be seen by the entire kitchen crew. There was no way he could make it back up to the study without passing the kitchen again. He opened the dumbwaiter and pulled it down to his room where he collected the gun. He pulled the dumbwaiter back up, just high enough to get his arm under it, then closed the door around his arm, with the gun inside. He fired straight down. The noise echoed up the dumbwaiter shaft to the hall by the study and everyone heard it clearly. At this point, however, everyone was jaded to the loud noises. Since the last one had been innocent, everyone easily laughed it off at the time being. 

"In order to cover up the idea of the second shot, Jarvis opened the gun and replaced one of the spent bullets with a fresh one. He made one mistake, though. The packet of ammunition he took from Barton's case wasn't live rounds, but blanks, used in his circus tricks. Jarvis didn't notice the difference, only looking at the rounds from the back, but at the front, the pinched nose of the blank is rather obvious. He put the gun back in the dumbwaiter, thinking everything had gone off without a hitch.

"However, when Jarvis went back out, visibly passing the kitchen and even commenting on the loud bang to them, he realized nothing had gone to plan. No one was where they should have been. Tony hadn't gone into the sitting room, hanging around in the hallway - which we now know was because he was in the closet rifling through Barnes' jacket. Rhodes and Pepper came back into the sitting room from the  _ north  _ door, which meant they hadn't gone outside through the French doors, but rather through the front door, which meant no one had seen them leave. Which, it turns out, they didn't. And - uh - Jane Foster, as she was, had gone to the telephone to call into her home office. 

"Even Mr. Barton wasn't where he should have been, having snuck upstairs to make time with the housemaid. It meant the entire house party had no alibi. The only person who had multiple people who could vouch for his whereabouts at the time of the shot was Jarvis, himself. Thor, or rather Loki, only had Agent Hill and vice versa, same for Potts and Rhodes. Barnes and Laura could speak for each other, and apparently no one had seen Tony at all.

"Or that was what Jarvis thought. Tony did have an eyewitness, though, two of them. Because Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes were at the top of the stairs looking down, waiting for their opportunity to sneak back down and pretend they'd been in the garden. And they saw Tony go into the closet for a moment, come out, and lean against the wall until the shot went off.

"They couldn't admit to that without admitting they had been in Rhodes' room instead of in the garden, however. And they each chose to act in such a way as to bring suspicion on themselves. Miss Potts found the note by the phone when she went to powder her nose during dinner -  _ Raza, Gulmira _ . Rhodes knew what it meant and told her. Fearing it implicated Tony after the murder was discovered, she burned it in the fire in her room. And when we showed up and Colonel Rhodes panicked about the shawl being found in his room, he dropped it down the dumbwaiter. It fell down the shaft and landed on top of the car. When Jarvis later wheeled the dumbwaiter back up to the study so the gun could be found, the shawl got caught and was dragged along as the car went up. Upon examination, it looked as if the shawl had been used to wipe the gun down, perhaps even used to silence the shot itself, and was then stuffed up between the dumbwaiter car and the shaft to hide it.

"In a bizarre twist, Loki Laufeyson was the best alibi Jarvis had. He visited Stane's study  _ after  _ the first shot, something that wasn't supposed to happen and wasn't recorded in Stane's diary. He found the study locked, but that didn't stop someone like Laufeyson. Perhaps he intended to have it out with Stane and demand another payment for his silence. They'd agreed to meet late, after eleven - the L.L. in his diary - but Laufeyson preferred to challenge him with the guests awake, put more pressure on Stane to cave to his demands and prevent them being found out. 

"But when he made his way inside, he found Mr. Stane dead - shot. Knowing that he would no doubt be a suspect, Laufeyson relieved the safe of its contents, and slipped back out again. But first, he added a new name to Stane's diary - Thor. That way no one would find it unusual that he had gone to speak to him so early on the day, and the initials L.L. would point to someone else.

"Mr. Jarvis couldn't have predicted Rhodes hiding the shawl, Miss Potts burning the note, or Tony going to the closet instead of to the sitting room. He didn't imagine Barton falling for the maid, Thor Odinson being a wanted criminal and Miss Foster being an Agent of the CIA, or Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes going upstairs instead of to the garden." Steve nodded to him. "I believe you really tried your best to make this a murder with no suspects, but unfortunately fate was not on your side, and so you have been found out."

Everyone stared wide-eyed at Steve. "My goodness," Miss Potts said weakly.

"I wasn't completely sure until I found this." Steve pulled the little bag with the bullet out of his pocket. "I was embedded in the cellar floor, at the bottom of the dumbwaiter shaft. It made no sense to take the bullet out of Stane's body and drop it down the shaft, nor did it make any sense to fire down the dumbwaiter - unless, someone were trying to change the time of the murder."

Tony's eyes were wet and wide. "Jarvis… is it true?"

The old butler nodded slowly. "I'm afraid so, Mr. Stark. I heard on the call that he was going to wire the money to order the hit the next morning. Once the money was paid, even Stane's death wouldn't stop the attack and I didn't believe I could prevent you from travelling. And I'll admit, I was very angry. I had trusted this man, as had you, and nearly everything he had done would cause you pain. 

"I have been protecting you since you were a babe in arms, Master Tony." Jarvis' voice drifted softly into the past. "I couldn't let this happen, sir. I just couldn't. It's as he says, exactly. There was no way I could prove to the police the harm he intended before it was too late, but I could make him pay for it. And protect you at the same time."

Tony covered his mouth with his hand. "Oh, Jarvis…"

Natasha walked over to Jarvis who presented his hands to be bound with the cuffs. She led him out of the room. Shocked, the rest of the gathering shuffled out with him, Hill marching Laufeyson out to a car that had appeared out front for her. 

Tony caught Steve by the door. "I can't believe it."

Steve nodded. "And yet, it is true. I'm sorry, Tony."

Tony sniffed sharply. "That's alright. It's rather fanciful isn't it? Shouldn't be hard for a team of very expensive lawyers to sow doubt in the minds of the jury, eh?"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes. I wouldn't be surprised if a few months from now there was a rather well cared for older gentleman called "Parvis" taking residence in one of my beach houses in the Caribbean…" He turned a cheeky smile up to Steve, looking through his thick, dark eyelashes. 

Steve couldn't help but smile too. "You know? I imagine that may be a fitting end, after all. Even I find the tale rather bizarre. Conviction seems unlikely, I agree. It is not as if I have any real proof, after all, merely a hunch. Him loving you dearly, after all, isn't a strong case for the prosecution, is it?"

Tony shook his head.

"I am sorry, nonetheless. I'm sorry for your loss, of both of them."

"Well…" Tony sighed softly. "I suppose the one wasn't really much of a loss at all, was it, sir? And for the other, I believe I can save him."

"I hope you're right. This time… I hope you're right." Steve reached to shake Tony's hand but he caught Steve's wrist instead, shifting closer. 

"You know, I'd better thank you properly. I was definitely going to go down for this. Even I was beginning to wonder if I might have done it, and my defense is quite a bit weaker. You saved my life." Tony leaned forward, one hand braced on Steve's chest, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

Steve's hand came up unbidden and covered the spot Tony had kissed. Tony was still so close, his weight a warm pressure against Steve. "How about… dinner?" Steve asked. "Once Jarvis is safe. If you want to."

Tony grinned, lighting up the room. "I'd be delighted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all ~~the murder~~ she wrote! :D
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone reading along and enjoying this nonsense. It was really fun (and terrifying) to write this and I hope it was fun to read too!! 
> 
> Thank you to my amazing pre-readers, ashes0909, issa, betheflame, and my mom (lol) for all their help!
> 
> Huge thank you to isle_girl as well for choosing this prompt for MTH 2019 (MTH2020 is coming very very soon if anyone wants to bid on some custom fanworks!)
> 
> <33


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